Devil took your hand
by Taisi
Summary: Michelangelo gets ambushed; the Shredder gets another chance to test his mind control serum. Surprisingly- unfortunately- it works better than anticipated. (Co-authored by moogsthewriter.)
1. prologue

A/N: Hello there! You've just stumbled upon my _first ever_ collab, written with the wildly talented moogsthewriter! We've been working on this little gem for a few months now, and we're excited to finally share it with you.

* * *

 **prologue.**

 _Figures. The one time I pull a Raph and storm out, it's over something really stupid._

Picking a fire escape at random, Mikey dropped down the rusted ladder and took a seat on the topmost metal landing. His phone went off again — the third time since he left almost an hour ago — and like the first two times, he ignored it, letting it ring itself into silence and send his nosy, can't-take-a-hint brothers back to voicemail.

New York always looked so different after it rained. All the dull brick and tarmac shone, everything wet and gleaming under the street lights and the night sky, like the whole city just got back from the cleaner's. He and Raph shared a secret soft spot for Brooklyn, and this spot by the East River — right outside Dumbo, with probably the _best_ view of the Manhattan Bridge — was one they stumbled upon together, a few weeks after they turned fifteen. It was farther from home than Mikey usually went by himself, farther than Leo would be happy to find out he went, but tonight was an exception.

He knew Raph hadn't been looking for an argument. And Mikey shouldn't have turned it into one.

"I just wish they'd stop treating me like I'm brainless," he muttered for no one to hear, tracing patterns across the wet railing with his fingers, feeling like a loser because his feelings were hurt over something so stupid.

" _Give it a rest, Mikey. Your cartoons don't predict the future — that's the dumbest thing I ever heard."_

He should have let it go; he should have made a face or shrugged it off or _something._ Anything would have been better than taking it to heart, and sitting up on his knees, and coming back with, "Well, I was right about the mind control."

And he hadn't shouted, or thrown the words in the mean way Donatello did sometimes, the way people in movies threw hand grenades, but he could feel himself tensing up like he did in the dojo right before a spar. It was almost satisfying, how it made his brothers pause, but it wasn't really — Leo stared at him through narrowed eyes, like _"I can't believe you just,"_ and Donnie's mouth hung open, and Raph's shoulders squared.

Raph didn't like to talk about it — the mind control, and the hours he belonged to the Shredder — and bringing it up was like pointing out a big pink elephant in the room, and Mikey _knew_ better.

"Shut it, Mikey," Raph growled, more of a warning than anything else. And Mikey, knowing better, pushed himself to his feet anyway.

"Why should I? I could talk all day long and you _still_ wouldn't listen. You _never_ listen to me."

"Maybe we would if you ever said anythin' worth listenin' to,"Raph snapped — and he didn't mean it, Mikey knew he didn't mean it, but… _still._ He couldn't help flinching, some of that sudden irritation giving way to a much more familiar hurt.

He trusted his brothers more than anything. He loved them to the moon and back a million times; he'd go with them _anywhere_. And when Leo gave a surprising order, when Donnie came up with an impossible plan, when the odds were ten to one and Raph caught his eye with a playful smirk, Mikey would _always_ follow their lead.

But they didn't trust Mikey like he trusted them. It seemed to cost them so much just to _hear him out,_ like it was easier just to shut him down instead.

They were a team, but sometimes they didn't feel like one.

"Gee," he muttered back, eyes dropping away, "thanks a lot, Raph."

"That's enough, both of you," Leo said at that point, tossing his magazine aside and moving up to his feet in one flowing, water-like move Mikey wasn't sure when he'd learned. The _can't-believe-you-just_ in his face was evolving rapidly into a clueless, half-fascinated concern. When he reached out, it was like someone trying to stop a train wreck with his bare hands. "You need to calm down."

Mikey _never_ picked fights. Mikey threw water balloons and planted rubber spiders, and poked gleefully at all the sore spots in Raph's temper because it was sort of just how they played. This sudden tension didn't belong between the two of them, and no one was more aware of it than they were.

And all three of his brothers were staring at him, in a way that just _got_ to him sometimes — like they couldn't make any sense of him, like they didn't know where to start. Like he was a complete stranger, not a brother.

Mikey took a step away. "Whatever. I need some air."

And now he was sitting on some random fire escape feeling sorry for himself, and the rain clouds were beginning to gather back in, and there were three missed calls lighting up his phone. Mikey dropped his head against the brownstone behind him and sighed with gusto.

Raph stormed off all the time to cool his head. Mikey didn't see what was so great about it. He was cold and wet and miserable, and sort of lonely, and being at odds like this with his brothers made him feel at odds with the whole world.

When his phone went off again, it was a text alert. He'd been ignoring those, too. But sitting there with nothing else to do, it took all of a minute for curiosity to get the best of him despite his determined annoyance, and soon enough Mikey was sliding his T-Phone out of his belt to check his messages.

 **From** : Donnie  
 _Whatever happened, Raph's sorry. He was really upset when you left._

 **From** : Donnie  
 _Stop ignoring your phone._

 **From** : Donnie  
 _I don't know what's wrong, but I'll fix it, okay? Just come home._

And he was going to need way more willpower than he'd ever have in his whole life if he was going to stay mad at them now. His fingers tightened around the shell-shaped phone — he hadn't meant to upset Raph or Donnie, and he knew Leo was probably worried, too. Hurt feelings weren't worth all that. He was being stupid.

He opened up a new thread — a mass text to all three of them — and at the same time, a clinging drop of rainwater fell from the ladder rung right onto his screen. Making a face, Mikey flicked his phone to get it off.

Light reflected oddly off the screen at the same moment as he heard a heavy footstep shift in the loose gravel on the roof above.

An alarm pulled somewhere in the back of his brain, and he rolled to one side and threw himself off the fire escape in time to avoid being caught in a cage of twisted metal, as an unfortunately familiar rhino-man body-slammed it with a roar.

Mikey hit the ground in a practiced rolling fall, phone flying from his hand and heart pounding against his plastron so hard he was pretty sure one or the other was gonna break. What was _Rocksteady_ doing here? He tugged his 'chucks from his belt as Rocksteady dropped to the ground, and realized in the next, heart-sinking moment that he was surrounded. Bebop, Rahzar—there was Tiger Claw, too, and easily two dozen Foot ninjas and…

Oh, no.

He couldn't help the fear that sank like a stone through his stomach, or the way his hands started shaking, even if his weapons didn't waver. And he stood his ground but his eyes went wide all on their own, as from somewhere behind him Tiger Claw murmured, "It is the little one, Master. Hamato Yoshi's youngest child."

And the Shredder stepped into the single flickering streetlight like some kind of horror movie monster, eyes cold and manic and not exactly something Mikey was eager to see on a cold night alone in Brooklyn.

"He will suffice," the Shredder said, and that was the last thing Mikey remembered.


	2. chapter one

A/N: Thanks so much for all the kind reviews! The positive response to our little baby here was overwhelming, and we can't tell you how pleased we are that you've enjoyed the prologue! Hopefully the rest of the story doesn't disappoint.

* * *

 **chapter one.**

Leo sped through a red light. Somewhat distantly, Donnie thought, _Good thing the intersection is deserted._

"It's just ahead," he said as the van rounded a corner sharply, his voice too loud as it broke the tense silence. Leo nodded without looking back, and Raph made a quick show of throwing himself back in his seat.

"I'm sure he's fine – he probably just fell asleep or something," Raph muttered – even did a good job of keeping his voice cool and collected. But Don didn't buy it; his red-banded brother's hands kept clenching into empty fists, narrowed glare pointed resolutely away from the only free seat in the van.

Don's eyes fell back to the safety of the GPS screen, unable to help the way his fingers curled too tightly around its casing. Trying not to think about how Mikey refused to sleep _anywhere_ without either his brothers or his nightlight.

"Yeah, that's probably it."

From the driver's seat, Leo didn't have anything to add; but the next turn he took nearly pitched Raph and Don right out of their seats. The Shellraiser rocked up on two tires, rubber squealing on the pavement before the wagon righted itself with a thud, and Don had to bite his tongue to keep from reaming Leo out. That kind of driving could severely damage tires, and they didn't have that many spares. But Leo wouldn't appreciate a lecture on _car maintenance_ of all things, not when they had a brother missing.

 _Not missing,_ Donatello corrected himself sternly. _He's just... not answering his phone._

Three hours. Three hours from Mikey without a word, not even after all their attempts to reach him. After what had happened to Leo during the full-scale Kraang invasion, for any of them to go that long without at least sending a quick text of _I'm fine, go away_ was not a good sign.

Frankly, Don had been ready to go after Mikey the moment he left in the first place, but the fact that Mikey had left _at all_ had the rest of them thrown for a loop.

Mikey didn't _do_ that.

He wasn't one to storm out in anger – or to act on anger at all, really. It was something Donnie had always secretly admired in his younger brother. Mikey got annoyed, sure – that came with the territory of having three siblings – but he wasn't confrontational, not in the way the rest of them were. He had other means of getting what he wanted if he really wanted it, devious (and sometimes strangely ingenious) means, so he was usually quick to let irritation just roll off his back rather than have it blow up into something loud and ugly, the way arguments between Leo and Raph could always be counted on doing.

Don could count on two hands the number of times he could remember Mikey being _truly_ angry with them, and still have a couple of fingers left over.

When Mikey had been gone a little over an hour, Don had run a location check on his phone. Leo had _not_ been happy to see how far away Mikey had ventured by himself, but Raph knew the spot – moreover, he knew that it was in a quiet neighborhood, fairly safe – and few subsequent checks proved Mikey didn't seem to be going anywhere, so they opted to let him sit for awhile and cool off.

And finally, as the three-hour mark neared with not a single peep from his little brother, Don had had enough. He knew Mikey, unfamiliar temper notwithstanding, and this- this just wasn't like him.

"I think we should go after him," he'd said, and it was like the other two had just been waiting for someone else to crack first; within thirty seconds they were racing out of the lair toward the dot on the screen that still hadn't moved.

"Stop here, Leo," Raph barked suddenly, and Don only had a split second to brace himself before Leo slammed on the brakes, sending the Shellraiser to a fishtailing stop near the gaping mouth of a murky alleyway. The vehicle had only barely stopped moving before Raph was pulling himself out of the hatch on the roof and dropping to the street, leading the way at a run. "Come on. He'll be near the top of the fire–"

Don, hot on Raph's heels, grunted as he slammed into Raph's carapace and nearly sent the both of them tumbling over. He managed to catch himself before landing flat on his face, and turned to glare at his brother. His brother, who stood frozen and silent, staring ahead with eyes that were wide and bright in the dark.

"Raph, what's–"

Then Don caught sight of what Raph was staring at, and felt all the blood drain out of his face. _Oh, no_.

A dozen destroyed Foot bots littered the alleyway. Other than the slight twitching from a few still-sparking limbs, nothing else moved in the darkness, and the entirety of the fire escape was nothing more than a twisted heap on the ground.

Mikey wasn't there.

 _Mikey wasn't there._

"But – but his T-Phone," Don protested weakly, heartbeat pounding in his ears. There was a constant drum of _he's gone he's gone he's gone_ tearing through his brain, something weighted and awful beginning to churn in his gut.

"Fan out, search everywhere – he might still be nearby," Leo ordered, katanas drawn, blank eyes nothing but sharp pinpoints of white from where he stood in the shadow of the building. "Donnie, try calling his phone again."

Don nodded, pulling out his T-Phone as Leo and Raph moved away. When he hit Mikey's speed-dial, it felt like the hundredth time that night.

It took a moment for the call to go through, and then a familiar ringtone echoed through the empty breadth of alleyway. The three of them turned in tandem to follow the sound, and found themselves staring at the wreckage of the fire escape.

Mikey's phone was ringing from under _that_.

In an instant they were there, pulling the scrap heap apart with all the desperation of drowning men. Don scowled impatiently when a sharp piece of metal sliced a shallow cut along his palm, and shoved the bar aside. It was obvious Mikey wasn't trapped beneath the pile, Don knew that, and yet he couldn't help but hope that _maybe we just can't see him, maybe he's pinned but safe, maybe we got here in time–_

Raph found the phone first. Donnie built them sturdy for a reason; whatever had happened here, the T-Phone had only suffered a hairline crack. Raph dropped Don's call with an aggressive tap of his thumb against the screen, mouth pressed into a thin line – and then his face, which Don didn't think could get any paler at this point, went _white_.

The last window Mikey had used was still open; a new mass message thread, all three of their names plugged into the "send to" bar, and a cursor blinking patiently at the beginning of a blank text.

Raph's fingers curled around their little brother's phone, eyes glued to the empty message. The words rasped, like he'd had to _pull_ them out of his throat, as he put to voice the awful truth:

"They took him."

* * *

The worst part was knowing.

They knew where he was. They knew exactly where he was. They could probably run the halls of Foot HQ blindfolded at this point; they could find Stockman's lab in ten minutes; they _knew_ where Mikey was.

They just couldn't get to him.

" _Damn_ it," Raph snarled, planting his fist in the brick and mortar of the same wall he was propped up against. "Just give him _back_!"

Bebop and Rocksteady laughed, wholehearted in their cruelty as it echoed through the empty alley around them. Donatello grit his teeth, pushing himself to his feet.

It was their third attempt to break in – and they failed again. Security around the perimeter was ridiculous, twenty Footbots for every one of them, and Shredder's mutant henchmen on top of that.

 _Why_? Don couldn't help but wonder. Mikey was important, but not to _Shredder_. He wasn't Splinter's protege, he wasn't the strongest or the smartest – why so much trouble to keep him? To keep them _from_ him?

"Make a trade," Leo said abruptly, eyes narrowed and desperate. His hands were clenched too tightly around the hilts of his swords, knuckles standing out stark white against green skin, and what he was suggesting, Donnie realized once he managed to reconcile the words with the usually level-headed turtle that spoke them, was _insane_.

"Yeah," Raph said, pushing himself away from the wall. He was unsteady on his feet – probably from the hard fall he took when Rocksteady kicked him out the window – but nothing else about him wavered. And he was on Leo's page, not Don's, and wasn't _that_ a first. "Yeah, make a trade. Give him back and take one of us, instead."

They finally agreed on something, and it had to have been the most terrible idea in the world. But… Donnie didn't have a _better_ one. Donnie didn't have any ideas at _all_.

" _Nyet_. Master Shredder is most pleased with current turtle slave," Rocksteady replied, as Bebop hopped up to sit casually on the lid of a dumpster by his left shoulder. "Says there is _wealth_ of potential in him, yes? Potential your rat master has been letting go to garbage."

"Go to _waste_ , Big S."

"Yes, is what I said."

"What does that mean?" Leo said, looking as close to actual nuclear meltdown at their enemies' ill-timed banter as Don had ever seen. "Potential?"

Bebop chose not to part with any more answers, hopping off his perch and slipping a flash bomb out of his utility belt. By the time Donnie's ears stopped ringing, the alleyway was empty and the bay door was closed.

They didn't have any choice but to leave – to head home, and regroup, and come up with another plan. _Knowing_ there was no choice didn't make leaving any easier. Every step Donnie took was harder than the one before it, until he felt like he was dragging himself through mud and tar.

And why let them leave? Rahzar the day before, Tiger Claw the day before that. And this time it was the same thing – the pig and rhino duo weren't exactly pulling their punches, but they could have done damage enough to ensure the turtles wouldn't be coming back for another round. But they didn't.

 _Why_? Shredder _had_ to know Don and his brothers weren't going to give up until they had their youngest back where he belonged. He _had_ to know that.

None of it made any sense. And as he climbed into the Shellraiser, Donnie found himself blinking through the sting of frustrated tears. It felt like they were failing Mikey, thoroughly and repeatedly, and walking away was as good as _abandoning_ him to that evil place.

"Call the Mutanimals," Leo said quietly, clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline. "Tell them to meet us at the lair." His face was cold with calculated fury, for all that his voice remained level and calm. He stared out at the road ahead and didn't meet his brothers' eyes once the whole way home.

Donnie made the call.

* * *

April and Casey were in about the same place as they were when the turtles left – keeping their vigil at Splinter's side. Don had called ahead to let them know it was another mission failure, so he didn't have to watch the hope bleed out of their eyes like he'd had to the first time, when they came home sans Mikey and with the addition of an injured master.

Leo led Raph to the pit and eased him into a seat, and Don beat feet to the party on the floor, sinking into a kneel beside them.

"How's sensei doing?" he asked, reaching over to feel for his father's pulse point where it beat beneath layers of warm fur. Casey leaned against his arm from one side, and April laid a hand on his opposite leg just above the knee pad. Don took comfort in the both of them, and in the steady heartbeat under his hand. "His vitals are still good?"

"He's doing fine," April said at once. "He even woke up a little while ago."

"He did?" Leo settled on Splinter's opposite side, eyes trailing over their father's face and then flicking quickly up to their sister's. "Was he coherent? Did he say anything?"

"Sorta, but he wasn't makin' any sense," Casey replied, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He looked tired; Don could sympathize. "Said somethin' about Mikey, and somethin' about the Tincan, then he was out again."

"Tiger Claw did a number on him," Raph growled, "that son of a… "

Leo's eyes narrowed by millimeters in silent agreement, but Don looked down. His mind was buzzing with about a hundred questions, but one in particular surfaced above the rest: Why had Tiger Claw denied credit for that defeat? It had been during their first attempt at breaching Foot headquarters, Donnie and his brothers doing their best to clear a path for sensei to run ahead and find their brother. Not twenty minutes later, Tiger Claw returned with their sensei hanging over one shoulder like a bag of potatoes, and he had all but dropped Splinter at their feet.

" _Don't glare at me, little_ kame," the tiger man had said quietly. " _I am only the messenger_."

"I know what you're thinking, Don," Leo said, startling Donnie from his troubled reverie. "Tiger Claw was just trying to get in your head. He's our enemy; we can't trust him not to lie."

"I know," Don conceded easily. But the sense of _wrong_ lingered in the back of his mind anyway. Leo looked like he knew Don wasn't sold, but neither of them had the energy or the will to argue the point. The silence that met his words was too thick and too heavy, and too much a reminder that their little chatterbox of a baby brother was still very much gone, so Donnie cleared his throat and added, "Do you have a new plan, Leo?"

Leo nodded, looking years older than he had any right to, and weary to his bones. "They won't be expecting us to try again before nightfall, but that's exactly what we're going to do. There should be heavy cloud cover from the storm. Raph, you only have a few hours to rest up. Slash and his team will be here soon, and then we're going back."

Then he squared his shoulders, and the weariness was suddenly gone; nothing left but firm resolve. He made each word sound like an oath in itself as he added, "Mikey isn't spending another night in that place."

* * *

Slash agreed to help right away. Maybe because he knew firsthand how frightening the mind-control serum was for its victim, but Donnie didn't think that was it. All it really took was one long look at Raph, and Slash's eyes went narrow and fierce.

Because Raph was so obviously hurting – angry and guilt-stricken and scared for his missing family, hardly able to force the words out of his throat as he asked Slash for his help; like he was half-afraid he'd start screaming or crying if he opened his mouth, and he wasn't sure which it would be. Slash had moved to him at once, dwarfing Raphael with his hands on the smaller turtle's shoulders.

"We're with you," Slash had said, lifting his steely glare to Leonardo. "We'll help you get him back."

Leatherhead growled in the back of his throat from where he stood at Leo's side, a rumbling sound like thunder, and it compelled Donnie to smile. As much as Slash would do anything in his power for Raphael, Leatherhead would burn worlds for Mikey. Don caught his brothers' eyes and shared his smile with them in a moment of surging confidence. They were lucky in friends. They would make it this time.

And they did.

 _Fourth time's the charm,_ Donnie thought as he followed Leo and Raph inside. It made sense. Four was their number, after all.

The Mutanimals were holding the Shredder's men at bay, and the cacophony of clashing weapons faded as the turtles left the battle behind in exchange for racing through empty rooms and echoing corridors. Nothing was in their way this time; it was almost too easy.

 _In fact,_ Donnie thought, with that troubling sense of wrongness oozing to the forefront of his mind, _it's kind of strange that all of Shredder's manpower could have been so focused on the perimeter that he'd leave the halls unguarded._ They were nearly to the heart of the building at this point, and they hadn't happened upon so much as a single Footbot.

Raph must have been thinking along the same lines. "Leo," he hissed, and their leader nodded tensely.

"I know. I _know_ ," he replied, without looking back, or even slowing down. "But we can't turn back now."

Stockman's lab, when they finally reached it, was empty and dark. More than that, it looked like a warpath; equipment lay in pieces, scattered across the polished floor, furniture was upended and trashed, the supercomputer was gutted, and sparking weakly.

Donnie's eyes were wide as he took in the destruction. "What could have done this?" he asked quietly, and Raph spun one sai anxiously.

"No idea, Don, but—"

"Raph, _move_!"

Leo surged forward, kicking Raphael out of the way of a flurry of kunai that buried themselves inches deep in the cool tile floor. Raph skidded into an overturned desk, growling under his breath and whipsawing around as he tried to find their attacker in the dark. Leo gestured, and Donnie flanked him quickly, the three of them closing ranks.

Over the past few days, they'd learned to adjust for that empty fourth position, but it never got any easier.

"Enough shadow games, Shredder," Leonardo snapped, sliding both katanas out of their sheaths at his back. "You know why we're here – _give us back our brother."_

When the Shredder laughed, it was from some far corner of the room, almost opposite where the throwing knives had come from. Don felt his brothers tense next to him, and Don's hands tightened on his staff, but in the next moment, the Shredder said, "If you insist."

And then, out of the same dark corner they'd been staring at, Mikey stepped into the light of a few broken, hanging fluorescent bulbs. And Donnie only had a moment to feel overwhelming, heartbreaking relief at seeing his brother alive and on two feet before it gave way to a slow, dawning horror.

Mikey's skin was rough and torn and discolored – on his knuckles, the bare skin of his arms and legs, his neck and the side of his face – marks that came from knives and fists, from ropes and powerful fingers. His bright mask was torn and stained, the pale wraps around his wrists replaced by raised welts and vivid bruises.

It was all signs of a struggle, of a defeat that didn't come easily – signs that Mikey put up all the fight he had to his name. And each wound on his brother's body was a new weight on Don's heart, but…

But Mikey stood as if he didn't notice. As if the bruises that surely made it painful to close his hands weren't even there. And there were more kunai between Mikey's fingers, and something predatory in the lines of his body, and his eyes were blank and narrow.

Staring right through them, and seeing nothing.

Don's stomach churned, like he was going to be sick. And when he found the courage to speak, all he managed was the barest whisper:

 _"Mikey?"_


	3. chapter two

A/N: Thanks for all the feedback!

* * *

 **chapter two.**

It wasn't going to be like last time. Raph could already tell.

Mikey was standing absolutely still, as though it would take a hurricane to move him, head tilted to one side and eyes gleaming like mirrors in the gloom. The bruises on his body stood out like neon signs – _the Shredder was here_ – and Raph couldn't help but trace the rough and torn skin with his eyes, fists shaking around his sais.

"You really put up a fight, huh, little brother?" he said, and if his voice came out too quiet, it was because he didn't really trust himself not to choke.

The remains of Footbots scattered across their alley in Dumbo; the black and blue map of a desperate struggle across Mikey's knuckles and wrists – Mikey fought. Mikey fought _hard_ , and deep, deep beneath the fear and anger Raph had been consumed by the past four days, there was a fierce sense of pride.

Faced with insurmountable odds, his little brother stood his ground and _fought_ with all he had. And that didn't change the situation they were in now, but it still _mattered_ because _that_ was his brother, through and through.

"That's...you did good, Mikey."

Beside him, Leo and Don shifted; they didn't _move_ , not really, but Raph could read them like a book, and the lines of their bodies and the curve of their mouths told him – better than words ever could – that they were going to stand down and let him take this chance. It made him want to close his eyes and breathe; to take a minute to compartmentalize those conflicting feelings of freedom and suffocation that his brothers' unwavering trust in him always brought.

Instead he swallowed, and took a step forward, and watched Mikey's blank gaze follow him.

"I know you can hear me, Mikey," he said, his voice louder now and full of conviction. Because Raph _remembered_ this – he remembered the struggle as he lost control to their hated enemy. He remembered the single-minded drive to do what he was told, how it smothered every instinct burning inside him that tried to protect his family. "I _know_ you can hear me. So you listen, okay? Whatever happens next, it _ain't_ your fault. Okay? None of it is. And – listen to me, Mikey, okay? This is the part you really need to hear me on, this is the part you have to remember _forever_ – no matter what it takes, we're gonna bring you home."

Mikey didn't blink or move or speak. He couldn't; they knew that. But Raph still searched his face for any sign of his brother there; any sign that his message had been heard.

There was nothing.

Then the Shredder laughed again – a deep, rumbling thing that rolled over them like a wave, sending shivers down their spines – and said, "Enough sentiment. Michelangelo – bring me his _head_."

And like a switch had been flipped, Mikey _moved_ , hurling the kunai in his hand with lightning speed toward Don and Leo before launching himself at Raph.

The sudden movement caught them all off guard. Leo managed to deflect the kunai coming at him with the flat side of his blade, sending the projectile spinning away into the darkness; Don barely raised his bo staff before a knife sunk through the wood and nearly nicked his nose; pure instinct had Raph ducking just in time to avoid a blow from the nunchaku in his brother's hand, but the second one caught him in the plastron with enough force to knock him off his feet.

Dazed, Raph looked up just in time to see Don block another vicious swing from the nunchaku with his staff, but Mikey wasn't phased. He let momentum do the work of wrapping the extended chain of his 'chucks around Don's bo, then twisted his body in a simple quarter-turn; ripping the staff right out of Don's hand and ducking neatly under Leo's flying kick in the same smooth move. Don yelped as Leo crashed into him instead, sending them both tumbling to the ground and nearly bowling Raph over as well.

As they struggled to get back on their feet, Mikey tossed Don's bo aside and tucked away a pair of nunchaku, converting the other into a kusarigama. Swinging the fundo in a lazy circle, his empty gaze never wavered, and Raph felt his heart sink somewhere down around the floor.

"Guys," he muttered, "I think we might be in trouble."

There was only the briefest of acknowledgements from his brothers – a tightening of the fists from Donnie; a narrowing of the eyes from Leo – before the Shredder barked, "Michelangelo!" and Mikey was after them again, moving faster than Raph had ever seen him, and it was all they could do to stay on their feet and avoid the reach of Mikey's weapons.

It was absolutely unnerving. Not the fact that Mikey was trying to _kill_ them, though that was disturbing enough on its own, but more because he hadn't made a _sound._

When they were younger, Raph used to think Mikey would _never_ be a ninja – not because he wasn't fast enough or strong enough or smart enough, but because the kid was _loud_. Of the four of them, Mikey was the last one to really get a handle on "stealth mode," and some days Raph was convinced he _still_ didn't get it; halfway through their silent exercises Mikey would always start humming, or tapping his feet, or dropping corny one-liners trying to get a laugh. Master Splinter would scold him, and so would Leo if the four of them were on a training run on their own, but the reprimands never really stuck, and over the years they all came to accept that nothing about Michelangelo would ever totally be _textbook_ ninja. He could keep up with his brothers in a spar, outpace them in a race, hold his own when they were fighting Kraang or Footbots together, but he couldn't be quiet to save his life.

Except, as it turned out, he _could_.

And for Raph, that was the most unsettling part of it all. Every move Mikey made was one hundred percent himself – the way he danced around on the balls of his feet; how he twirled the kusarigama like it was an extension of his arm; when he dodged a smoke pellet from Don by doing a handspring off Leo's shoulders and twisting around in the air like some kind of gymnast. The fluidity of every movement, the ease with which he ducked in and out of shadows, _all_ of it was pure Michelangelo.

But somehow there was no sign of him in there. It was like a robot wearing his body like a suit, replacing Mikey's exuberance and spirit with something mechanic and unfeeling. The youngest of their clan had a knack for turning nearly _everything_ into a game, and though that could get on Raph's nerves more often than not, it was one of the things he loved most about his little brother. Mikey kept things _light_ , he kept things fun.

Now, though, without the jokes or the giggles or the shrieks that they usually heard throughout the course of a fight, there was a weight to every move he made, a kind of intensity Raph had only ever seen once or twice before.

And the silence, god. It was absolute. Not even a grunt when Raph managed to land a kick to his carapace; oblivious to the desperate way Donnie was calling his name, heedless of the Shredder and his cruel, snide comments, the kind that would normally have made Mikey toss some zingers right back.

Raph wasn't as oblivious, though. Raph heard them, even as he focused on keeping his head on his shoulders and keeping his brothers in one piece, and they made his blood _boil_.

"–must admit I had low expectations for this one," the Shredder said, "but I've accomplished what Hamato Yoshi never could: turned this runt into a warrior, one capable of greater stealth and obedience than I could have ever imagined."

"Ignore him, Mikey," Leo barked, ducking under the fundo's heavy weight to get in close to his brother, and narrowly avoiding a follow-up swing from the bladed end of the kusarigama for all his trouble. He managed to tackle Mikey around the waist, and the pair tumbled to the floor, but Mikey somehow managed to tuck his knees to his chest, planting his feet squarely in the center of Leo's plastron and flipping his older brother up and over his head before rolling to his feet.

"Leo's right – we know this isn't you, Mikey," Don said as he attempted to use his bo staff to sweep Mikey off his feet. Mikey managed to avoid the blow, but it distracted him enough to let Raph dive in and try to pin Mikey to the ground.

It didn't work; Mikey twisted free and caught Raph in the back with a hard roundhouse kick, sending him flying.

The Shredder laughed as Raph landed with a grunt, and he wasn't the only one. In the shadows, Raph could see a crowd was gathering to watch the fight – Tiger Claw stood nearby, arms crossed, and there was Rahzar, and Rocksteady, and he could hear the mechanical whir of Fishface's legs and Bebop's high-pitched cackle.

"Your words are useless," the Shredder declared, finally stepping out into the light as Don yelped, trying to fend of a series of blows from Mikey's nunchaku. "Michelangelo is mine now – a wealth of potential, a loyal soldier at my disposal," he said, eyes narrowing in satisfaction when Raph growled at him, "though it took far more force to break his spirit than it did _yours_."

A red haze settled over Raph's vision. "I will make you _pay_ –"

"Raph, _move_!"

Leo's panicked shout had Raph dodging instinctively, but it was a split-second too late – suddenly Raph's vision went white, and the next thing he knew, he was lying flat on his back, and his head was on _fire_ , and he couldn't hear anything. Everything above him was swirling in a kaleidoscope of color, muted and muffled like he was sinking underwater.

He blinked a few times, trying figure out what had just happened, struggling to get his bearings, when suddenly a shadow appeared over him. Raph blinked once more and realized it was _Mikey_ , standing with his kusarigama in hand. Blood stained the weighted end ( _who got hit_? Raph wondered, but the pounding in his head wouldn't let him _think_ ), and the bladed end was held high over Mikey's head, ready to fall in one final blow, ready to fulfill the Shredder's command.

"'S'gonna be okay, bro," Raph said – or tried to say; his words slurred together, and he wasn't exactly sure _what_ came out. "'m'right here, Mikey, s'gonna be okay."

But it was enough – Mikey froze. The blade didn't fall, his arm didn't move, and for a split second that may have just been wishful thinking or a trick of the light, there was the smallest flicker of something _familiar_ in his face.

And then in the breadth of the same moment Leo was there; tackling Mikey to the ground, rolling to get him as far away from Raph as possible. And when Raph blinked again, Don was helping him sit up.

"Raph, stay with me, stay awake, okay?" he said.

Raph hissed in pain when Don put pressure on the back of his head; for a moment, he really, _really_ wanted to throw up, but he held it down in favor of looking to where Mikey and Leo were facing off. The cold gaze was back on Mikey's face, and his movements were quicker than ever; Leo was pulling out all the stops, Raph couldn't recall the last time he'd seen Leo fight like this, but he still couldn't touch Mikey.

Raph felt his stomach churn again, only this time it wasn't just because of the head injury. "Don… need t'go."

Don paused, and glared at his brother. "I'm _not_ leaving you, Raph, why would you even think–"

"No," Raph protested, trying to enunciate every word, " _we_ need to go."

And Don's eyes got huge as he realized what Raph was saying, his fingers curling too tight on Raph's shoulders.

"But – but, no, Raph, we can't just _leave_ him–"

"Don–" And Raph was _really_ going to be sick now, but he forced the words out; because it was true, even if it was awful. "We can't help him. Not now. Not like this."

They both looked over as Leo grunted in pain, Mikey having managed to land a solid blow on Leo's upper arm, causing his older brother to drop a katana with a clatter. Leo dodged to one side to avoid another blow, then fell back and away, landing in a crouch next to Raph and Don. His face was emotionless, and there was a stiff set to his whole body that had nothing to do with pain.

"He's right, Don," Leo murmured, his voice flat and even and filled with a secret, seething rage that Raph, even with his pounding head and churning stomach, could completely understand. He sheathed his remaining katana and pulled Raph's arm across his shoulders. "Do it."

Mikey stood frozen, watching them with that unnerving blank gaze, head tilted slightly to one side like a bird. Behind him, the Shredder was moving forward, and the rest of his minions were crowding in behind, and there was no time left.

"Mikey," Don said, with a confidence Raph _knew_ he didn't feel, "we _will_ bring you home. I _promise_."

And then he pulled a handful of smoke pellets from his belt and threw them down. Raph closed his eyes against the smoke, and the nausea and pain that were only partially thanks to his aching head, as Don and Leo helped him to his feet.

As they made their escape through the thick purple smokescreen, the Shredder _laughed_.

"That's right – run back to your master. Tell Hamato Yoshi that once again, I have taken his precious child. And the next time we meet, your deaths will come by _his_ hand."

The ringing echoes chased them through the halls, and Raph tried to pretend it was the smoke in his eyes that caused them to burn and water.


	4. chapter three

A/N: Here we go with chapter three! I should probably warn you now that this story is probably going to cap at about ten chapters, if even that. It's not going to be an _epic_ tale by any means, but it should still be a pretty good read. (: And again, this fic is co-authored by moogsthewriter; if you haven't checked out her bio yet, you really should.

(A sidenote for anyone following Problem Child; I'm very sorry for the irregular updates, and especially sorry for the delay between the last chapter and this upcoming one. I've been working on it when I can, and I _hope_ to have something for you within the next several days. Thank you for your patience!)

* * *

 **chapter three.**

The lair was quiet, and it was something Leonardo was becoming unfortunately accustomed to. He wasn't sure what time it was – if he had to guess, he'd say it was around four in the morning – but he knew it was early. Or late, considering they'd only returned a few hours ago, limping back home in a heavy silence that was only broken by Donnie quietly urging Raphael to stay awake.

Now, Leonardo was taking his turn at Splinter's side and keeping an eye on the rest of his family, who curled up together while they slept, with Slash's team spread out around them on the seats and the floor of the pit. One of Leatherhead's massive paws was curled around a duct-taped bear that Leo recognized with a pang – where the alligator had found the ragged thing, Leo didn't know, but he wouldn't begrudge their friend its comfort; even if seeing the silly, lopsided face was as good as a twisting corkscrew through his heart.

The first aid kit was still open, next to where Donatello lay with his head pillowed on Casey's outstretched arm. Raphael was on Casey's other side, with April tucked against his plastron. Crisp, clean bandages created a white halo around Raph's head, and for a moment, Leo was caught up in the memory of a fear that had consumed him; of the way the heavy weight of the fundo had flown through the air; of the way Raph had fallen like a puppet whose strings had been cut, boneless and bleeding.

"You'll be fine," Donnie had assured Raph earlier, hands lingering on his brother's face once he'd finished stitching up the split skin across the back of Raph's skull, like he was afraid to let go entirely. (And _shell_ , that had only happened from a _glancing blow_ ; Leo could taste bile in his mouth at the thought of what would've happened if Raph hadn't tried to move out of the way.)

Don's voice lately was nothing but a ghost of itself, and between his soft and suffocating sadness, and the heartbroken fury in each and every harsh line of Raph's body – next to April's stubborn hope, Casey's silent certainty – Leo thought he was going to lose his mind.

"I need you, Father," Leo said, turning his eyes back to Master Splinter's still and silent form. Hating himself for the way his voice choked in his throat, like he was five years old again. " _Please_ wake up. I need your help."

He didn't have the strength to do this. He wasn't _enough_ to do this. He couldn't lead this partial team, or guide this fragmented family – not after his spectacular row of failures. Four times he failed his baby brother; five, if he counted letting Mikey walk away in the first place. Six, if he considered the hours he let pass before they left to bring Mikey home, hours Mikey had spent in the Shredder's hands without their even knowing it.

Leo felt like he was coming apart at the seams, and he couldn't move too fast or he would fall to pieces and never be able to pull himself back together again. There was a pit beginning to yawn open beneath him, like it had at the farmhouse; like it had during the battle that had crippled him.

Leo hadn't known back then if it was a pit of anguish, or desperation, or fury like _fire_. But in the Shredder's lair – as Mikey stood apart from them, still as stone, knife in hand and bruises an ugly patchwork across his light skin, watching them without a hint of the love and warmth that was as much a part of him as his freckles or his shell – well. Leo had had a pretty good idea what it was that had made his hands shake, his swords sing, his vision burn red.

It was anger. Not _only_ that, but pure, unfiltered rage. Rage at the Shredder, for his never-ending quest to destroy all that Hamato Yoshi held dear.

But even more than that, rage at himself, turned inward like a knife. For not being strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, _good_ enough to keep his family safe. For not being able to protect his youngest brother from the darkness that constantly threatened to rip them apart.

No, all Leo was good for was watching helplessly as the Shredder tightened his grip on Mikey's gentle mind, and ordered him to do things completely against his nature.

"I shouldn't be the leader," he whispered, swiping at his burning eyes. "I've failed you, sensei. I've failed this family. I need – _please_ , please wake up, I can't do this, I just–"

"Leo?"

The sudden voice took him by complete surprise, and his heart jumped into his throat as he turned sharply around. But he knew who it was even before he saw Casey looking at him, eyes wide and forehead wrinkled under a messy mop of dark hair.

"Sorry for waking you," Leo said automatically; softly, in deference to the rest of their still-sleeping siblings. Casey scowled at him without anger, like Leo was stupid for apologizing; like Leo _hadn't_ just interrupted what was possibly the only sleep Casey had found in several days. And Leo was shaken by a sudden storm of fierce gratitude.

Casey and April had been nothing but pillars of steady, unspoken support; relentless loyalty that Leo wasn't sure what he had done to earn or deserve. Worry for their missing brother was evident in their skipped sleep and missed meals, their pale skin and dark eyes.

"Don't be an idiot," Casey muttered in return. And he sat up slowly, easing Donnie's head off his arm and onto a pillow instead, rolling forward onto his knees and reaching out to tug the quilt back over Raph and April where it had slipped off. Scanned the lair quickly as he stood, a flick of brown eyes that looked more like reflex than it did true caution, and Leo shifted over to give him room to sit as Casey finally joined him next to Splinter. "Didn't mean to fall asleep in the first place."

" _You need to sleep,"_ was on the tip of Leo's tongue, but he managed to bite it back. They all needed sleep. They all needed a lot of things. And Leo was in no position to give anyone orders or advice. Leo was in no position to give anyone much of anything anymore.

He could feel Casey's eyes tracing his profile, and he could feel it when they dropped away.

"Not gonna pretend I didn't hear what you were sayin' a minute ago," the other boy said starkly, his voice low and even. Everything about him was steady, these days; he was like a bulwark in a sea of long silences and cresting tempers and breaking hearts. And now, in the dim and the quiet of an early, restless morning, Leo wondered who had taught Casey how to be that shield, and why it was something he had needed to learn in the first place. "And for the record, I think you're dead wrong."

Leo blinked at him. Looked down at his hands. Shrugged one shoulder. Casey _would_ say that; any friend would say that. But proof sat all around them – proof that Casey was wrong, that Leonardo was a failure, and that his failure only grew in every moment that passed without Mikey home where he belonged.

Then Casey socked him in the shoulder – _hard_. Leo only barely managed not to yelp in surprise at the sudden assault. " _Ouch,"_ he hissed, eyes going wide as he cringed away from the human and rubbed his arm. "What the heck was _that_ for?"

"Donnie was singin' that same tune earlier," Casey replied, unbothered. "S'how I snapped him out of it, too. That crap's bogus, man, and I don't wanna hear it."

"It's not… Wait," Leo paused; let the unexpected words settle with heavy weight. " _Donnie_ was?"

"Don't sound so surprised. You four can be so much like each other it's _insane."_

Leo just stared at him, uncomprehending, until Casey sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair.

"He was tinkering with Mike's phone, back... I dunno, a few days after Mikey went missin'. Figured out when Mike got snatched that night, 'cause more than half the texts you sent him were unread." His face darkened. "Turns out, Shredhead showed up just over half an hour _before_ Don did the first location check on 'im."

His eyes fell away, tracing back to where Donatello lay half-curled against a bright cushion, pale and drawn even in his sleep. Leo followed his gaze, feeling a wash of nausea at the memory of Raph pulling up the empty text screen on Mikey's phone – proof that Mikey wasn't going to let them worry, that he was going to reach out to them in apology or compromise, that he was going to let his family know one way or another that he was _safe_. And it hadn't even been an hour after he'd stormed out of the lair – long, _long_ before Leo would have thought to check on him, or call in himself, had he been the one to leave.

"Don's been kickin' himself about it, big time," Casey murmured, pulling Leo's focus back. "Says he should've checked on Mikey sooner; says he should've known better than to let Mikey go so long without checking in. It's been a full-time job keepin' him from havin' a nuclear meltdown. Good thing the dork's willin' to talk to me, or I'd have to beat this stuff out of him."

Donnie _was_ willing to talk to Casey. The two of them had built a pretty incredible rapport when no one else was looking, they'd been close ever since the farmhouse. And Leo would be grateful for that later, when his head stopped reeling.

" _None_ of this is his fault!" he blurted, voice climbing into something close to a shout. "How _could_ it be?"

" _Shh,_ dude, let 'em sleep," Casey snapped in return, but he reached over, words notwithstanding, and wound an arm around Leo's shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Leo's heart was racing a hundred miles an hour, very literally about to crash and burn. He'd been so consumed with his own shortcomings that he'd had no _idea_ his brothers were blaming themselves so thoroughly – he hadn't seen that they were hurting even harder under all that obvious agony on the surface.

His failure was even worse than he'd imagined.

And this was usually about the time he pulled away to save face, and disappeared to train or meditate, to keep himself together. But disappearing wasn't exactly an option right now – not with Casey's iron grip on his carapace, and the knowing, determined look in the human's eyes.

"It's not _your_ fault, either," Casey said, voice soft but sharp, like a hidden blade. "Not yours, and not Don's, or Raph's, or Mikey's. This is all on those assholes that took him, the ones tryin' to turn him into somethin' he's not, and they're gonna answer for it. You hear me?"

Leo blinked through an annoying burn in his eyes, staring in awe at this side of his friend he'd never seen before. Casey gave him a rough little shake, adding, "And _you're_ gonna lead the way and _we're_ gonna follow, just like we always do, 'cause we still believe in you. Got that? We _believe_ in you. _Mikey_ believes in you." And then the not-smile on Casey's face edged into something more like the smirk Leo was used to. "So cut it out with this guilt trip already, little brother, 'cause we got shit to do."

And the words each sounded _covenant._ Like that was the world as Casey Jones knew it; like it was as basic and fundamental to him as the virtues of bushidō were to Leo – virtues of courage and honor and loyalty. It was probably more than a _little_ biased, and it may have been nothing more than the ramblings of a headstrong seventeen-year-old who'd seen enough of the bad to recognize the good. It _certainly_ wasn't anything like his father's gentle encouragement, the wise words Leo usually sought out to soothe his soul. But somehow, it was just as good.

 _In some ways,_ Leo thought, closing his eyes against and leaning into the hug Casey was offering, borrowing some of that confidence for himself, just for now, _it's even a tiny bit better._

Because Casey was his family even though he didn't have to be, and that _meant_ something. And Leo wasn't sure that what Casey said was true – just as he wasn't quite sure anymore his father had made the right choice in making Leo the leader – but Casey believed it enough for both of them, and that was enough for now.

It had to be.

"Thanks, Casey," Leo murmured, and felt him shrug.

"Don't mention it," came the easy reply. "Seriously. Just tell me – what now?"

Sitting up straight, Leo rubbed a tired hand over his face. "Well," he said, trying not to sigh, trying to force his fatigued mind to _function_ , "this isn't like last time. Mikey – we won't be able to snap him out of this like we did Raph. The mind-control serum is stronger, I think – it _has_ to be, because Mikey would _never_ –" Leo paused, swallowing hard as he looked over at Raph. "When Raph was being controlled he still – he was still _Raph_. He talked back, he had the same tells, he reacted the same way to me picking a fight with him, even if it took awhile. But Mikey…"

"Mikey don't pick fights," Casey finished. "You won't be able to get him mad like you did Raph."

Nodding, Leo said, "And then there's the fact that… See, Mikey's not always aware of his surroundings like he should be, but… he _observes_ people. He mimics them. And his reflexes – we've always known he's quick to react, it's how he's able to get away with half those pranks of his. But this was… even for Mikey, it was…"

"You think the Shredder is training him?" Casey asked. "Showing him new moves?"

Leo shook his head, chewing his bottom lip. "I don't – maybe a few, but there hasn't been enough time. When we – when we were fighting, he was moving…" Leo trailed off as he looked over at Splinter. "He was using moves I've only ever seen sensei perform. And not – not even moves we've seen him do over and over again, but moves he's used in _battle._ "

Someone stirred behind them, then; a soft rustle of breath and blanket that Leo heard as clearly as a voice beside his ear.

"I noticed that, too," came the quiet murmur, and it was Donnie; sitting upright, alert eyes all the indication Leo needed that his mechanically-inclined brother had been awake and listening for a handful of minutes, at least. "And he's seen all our moves, obviously. We couldn't even _touch_ him, not once. He's going to know every move we make before we make it."

"Which means we'll need to do somethin' unexpected," Slash rumbled, rolling over to face them. His voice was thick and scratchy, a deep timbre Leo wasn't accustomed to, and his eyes were little more than slits of turquoise. "He won't be as familiar with how _we_ fight."

"And if Rockwell used his psychic amplifier to disorient him..." Don began slowly, rubbing his chin; then paused and shook his head. "But the Shredder might be expecting that. We can't plan on his letting Mikey fight us by himself again."

"Especially since Mikey didn't totally follow his orders," Raph added. His forehead and the corners of his eyes were still tight with pain, but his eyes were clear as he looked at Leo. And Leo was the only one to start in surprise at Raph's sudden contribution, looking across the pit at where his immediate younger brother and April were both sitting up, stiff and sleep-ruffled. What, had _everyone_ been awake this whole time? "He had me, and he hesitated," the red-banded turtle continued grimly. "And he could've had you a couple times, too - even I saw that."

Leo had seen it, too. Which meant the Shredder most certainly had.

Leo swallowed hard at the implications, nightmare fuel churning in the pit of his brain at what trouble that strength of spirit might have spelled for his baby brother, and nodded past it. "So odds are we'll be facing more than just Mikey next time. We'll have to be careful. We'll have to be _smart_."

"What do you think we should do, Leo?" April asked, and Leo felt a painful twinge. And he opened his mouth, to tell them he wasn't worthy anymore, that he didn't deserve to give orders anymore, that they'd probably be better off if someone else took the lead.

Then Donnie's arm crossed his field of vision. Brown eyes closer to red in the dimmed fluorescent lights of the main room, hand warm and solid where he covered one of Leo's own.

And he didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

Leo looked past him, to the circle of faces watching him from the pit; the tired lines under their eyes, and the weighted slopes of their shoulders. At the way they regathered despite the evidence of burdened hope and exhaustion, regrouped in the dark hours of the morning, turned their faces up to him where he sat on the lip of the pit with his human brother; with dogged devotion in the firm set of their mouths and all the bright colors of their eyes.

They were waiting for him. Trusting in him. _Still._

And looking at them, Leo felt something fierce and fearless reclaim his heart.

"I have an idea," he said, and his family leaned in to hear it.


	5. chapter four

**chapter four.**

"Raph, help me, _hold him down!"_

"I'm- _tryin'!_ Anytime with that sedative, Don!"

Donnie hands weren't shaking. Sixteen years of training and practice kept them steady. The shot was prepared already, as were two more for backup, and all he had to do was dig the case out of his bag. He didn't unbalance as Casey took a sharp turn around a corner, only moved back to his brothers and folded into a kneel.

What Leatherhead had dosed Mikey with should have kept him under for a little longer than it did. They were only halfway home. But Don didn't know what was in Mikey's system already, didn't know what kind of tolerance he might have built to the drugs at Don's disposal, didn't want to risk an overdose, or a violent reaction-

" _I don't wanna shot, Donnie,"_ drifted his little brother's whine, from some recess of his memory. _"I never get sick!"_

" _You never get sick because I give you your shots,"_ was Don's dry reply, unable to help smiling crookedly, though he tried. Stuff like that only encouraged Mikey, and they spoiled him enough already. _"Now hold still."_

"Hold him still," he said, and sounded much calmer than he felt. Mikey was fighting like a turtle possessed under his brothers' hands, teeth bared in a silent snarl. His eyes were narrow slits, summer blue sheathed behind a third white eyelid, and Don could _feel_ the glare touch his face like something physical.

"This won't hurt," he said, soothingly, when he knew his voice wouldn't tremble. "It's just going to make you sleep for a little bit, okay? It won't hurt, it's okay."

"Donnie, quickly." Leo's voice wasn't quite a snap, for all that it was tight and brittle, and Don swallowed. Wanted to flinch when Mikey did, when Don put a hand on his shell.

He'd never had to do this before. He'd never had to drug a brother like this before. They trusted him to play doctor, play medicine, they trusted him with stitches and shots and everything in between. But Mikey didn't, not anymore. Not with Shredder's influence still at work, in the form of a tiny slug in his brain. Mikey didn't even _know_ them. They were as good as strangers, forcing him down and injecting him, maybe the same way Shredder's men had done, and something sick turned in Don's stomach.

He took a deep breath. Held it. It was just a sedative. Just something to make Mikey sleep until they could help him. It was forgivable.

Mikey didn't make a sound when Don touched him, but something like a growl reverberated through his skin, something Don could feel even if he couldn't hear it. It made him hesitate another second or two, his eyes darting almost on their own to Mikey's arm- oh, poor Mikey, his _poor arm-_

"Donnie," Leo said again, urgently, and Don tore his gaze away. Emptied the syringe into Mikey's leg, and watched the fight ebb slowly out of the small ninja's body, tense muscles loosening one by one. Leo and Raph eased their weight off him gingerly, cautiously; propped him upright with gentle hands when his eyes began to droop closed.

It would keep him under for a few hours. Long enough to get him home, get him the antidote Don and Rockwell had finished two days ago.

The hardest part was over.

But Mikey was still struggling, even then- pushing kitten-like and feeble against Raph and Leo's hands, curling and clawing away; until finally, suddenly, Raph surged over him, winding strong, solid arms around their little brother and holding fast to him.

"Go to sleep, Mikey," he said roughly, green eyes blazing with something it hurt to look at, tucking Mikey against his plastron. "We've got you now."

Leo was silent, but he reached out to Don like he could hear Don's heart breaking from an arm's length away, squeezing his shoulder and touching the side of his face. "He didn't understand, but he will," their leader said softly. "He's just not himself right now. You have nothing to feel guilty for, Donnie, okay?"

 _Neither do you, Leo,_ Don wanted to tell him, so badly he could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, pricking like hot needles in the space behind his eyes. But he only nodded, silently, and covered Leo's hand with one of his own. Because there was no way Leo would let himself have that.

There was no way.

* * *

Splinter met them at the door of the lair, leaning heavily on his cane and using the wall for extra support. Don bit back the fierce snap that bubbled up his throat at seeing his father on his feet, when he should have been resting in bed; it wouldn't be fair, not after everything.

Leatherhead stopped beside the rat, and stooped a little to put the cradle of his arms within Splinter's reach. Mikey was limp, like a sodden ragdoll, and didn't stir at the brush of their father's furred hand against his face.

"Donnie needs to get him to the lab," Leo said quietly, and circled around Leatherhead to take his father's arm. "The antidote is ready, he'll be okay soon."

Leo was still with their weakened father now, but Raph didn't seem willing to part from Mikey's side. On top of everything else, Don didn't have the energy to spare on the usual, stupid fight it took to kick unnecessary bodies from his lab, so he ignored the dare in Raph's poison green eyes and turned the whole of his attention toward Mikey.

They had covered him with a blanket from the back of the van before rushing him inside; in part to smother the shivers that started up moments after he slipped into drugged sleep, but also to spare Splinter the sight of his youngest son's arm, if only for a little while. Once the antidote was administered in a series of shots, Don peeled the blanket away- and even prepared, he still felt his stomach drop.

Finding Mikey had been one part strategy, two parts dogged resilience. Whole days spent staking out rooftops and stalking Foot patrols, memorizing patterns and tracing routes. Casey and April wouldn't be left behind, no longer content to wait at Splinter's side once he was well enough to stay awake. And when the whole of their group remained adamant he stay behind and regain his strength, their master urged April and Casey to join the rescue party, anyway.

Fear for Mikey was all-consuming. They were far past the luxury of leaving even the smallest piece of their team behind.

" _Father's right. We need everyone on this,"_ Leo had said, his eyes deep and dark, and heavy with whole years' worth of responsibility he hadn't had any chance to grow into. It weighed on him, cut into him- the conversation Don had overheard him share with Casey really only proving how hard he was taking this whole thing- but he could still face them, and he could still _lead_ them, and Donnie would thank him for it later, much later, when all their work was over, when all their gritty fortitude paid off.

And then one night, it did.

" _Corner of Eastman and Laird, behind the warehouse. The tiger dude and wolfman are with him, and April counted about two dozen Foot, but the tin can ain't out to play,"_ Casey had said, voice crackling over homemade comm links, and without wasting a second Leo gave the signal to move, setting off at a run through a blanket of dusk and light pollution. Don followed right after, and sensed Raph moving in tandem just behind him.

It had looked as though the Shredder sent his men to take the new dog for its first walk, and it was all the opportunity they needed.

The plan moved without a hitch. The Mutanimals set up a perimeter, moving as fast as Don had ever seen them; destroying the Footbots with laughable ease and cutting off the henchmen before they could hope to call for aid. Rockwell immobilized Tiger Claw before he could become any real threat, his psychic amplifier nearly three times as effective after Don and April had tinkered with it a bit. Within moments the only threats left to them were Rahzar and Mikey himself, and Don could feel his heart hammering behind his shell when he caught sight of his little brother's eyes glinting at them from a blanket of shadows.

"Make it easy on yourself," Raph had snarled at the skeletal mutant, "and just hand him over."

Rahzar's jagged teeth had bared in a sneer. When he snapped his fingers, Mikey had come melting out of the dark. And the world might have rocked off its axis, Don wasn't sure- but he thought all the horror and heartbreak must have shown on their faces, because Rahzar took one look at them in the awful, weighted silence that followed Mikey's appearance and _laughed_.

"Oh, no, you should be grateful," the mutant said, with some wicked glee. "The brat got off easy."

Next to Donnie, Raph's fists shook, his expression black with something bigger, something deeper than rage; Leo was standing too many steps ahead, but Don could guess what his face looked like.

Mikey's gear, his belt, his bright orange mask– everything that marked him as a Hamato, as family – was gone. And in their place- the wraps around his wrists and ankles, the bandolier across his chest and the pauldron on his left shoulder, the cowl pulled low over his face- all of it was a uniform in black, black as a night ocean. It made the splash of color on the shoulder pauldron, the stark red of the Foot Clan emblem, look obscene.

But all of that was nothing, _nothing,_ compared to Mikey's left arm.

The ugly laceration was the only thing in the world that Don could see. Infected and inflamed, crawling down the length of his little brother's arm like a sick vine, closed with crude, clumsy stitches - _on purpose,_ had to be, Baxter was capable of much neater, much cleaner work-

It would scar, it would be forever. Some small part of him was never going to heal from this.

"Oh, Mikey," Don had whispered, and those round, blank eyes didn't so much as blink.

"Got off easy?" Leo had said abruptly, and Raph's head whipped around to him. Similarly, Donnie felt his heart skip a beat, something ice cold slinking into the pit of his stomach at how _monotone_ Leo sounded, how still he stood. Their big brother should have come alive with fury or fear, should have been like a rabid dog, straining at the end of its rope with snapping jaws, but instead he was… absence. "What do you mean by that?"

Be it the look on Leo's face, or some sixth sense granted by nature or biology, Rahzar seemed to sense danger and hesitated to answer right away. His gold eyes darted from Leo, to Raph and Don where they stood just behind him, then back again. And when the Mutanimals crawled up the sides of the building on all sides of them like avenging gargoyles, the wolfman realized he was outnumbered, outgunned and outmanned. It wasn't going to end well for him. They wouldn't let it. They were going to claw and bite and bleed their way to victory this time, they were going to bring their brother home no matter what the cost, and Rahzar finally seemed to read the tired titanium in each line and muscle and shadow of their bodies for what it was.

"He didn't kill you when he should have," Rahzar finally said, most of that mean delight in his intonation gone, replaced by something weighted and resigned. "So he was punished. And I say he got off easy, 'cause at first the master was going to take off his whole arm."

He had barely had the chance to finish before Leo was on top of him. Don hadn't even seen his brother move.

And now, in the warmth and safety of his lab, looking at Mikey's arm and the angry red of infection, a cruel little voice in the back of Don's mind wished Leo had _killed_ that wolf. Made him pay for treating this pain like a big joke. For treating Michelangelo like he was a tool or a toy or an attack dog, for playing a part- however infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things- in taking their baby brother away. For a brief moment, Don wanted Rahzar- and all the rest of them- really and truly _dead_.

It was wrong, but it was real, and Don didn't have enough willpower left aside to regret feeling that way. Not even a little.

"Are you gonna be able to fix it?"

Don turned his eyes up to Raph, where he sat on the opposite side of the infirmary bed. He had kept quiet up until now, and out of the way, and Don's heart turned over in his chest. Gratitude his big brother was there for him went to war with sheer frustration at the world in general, and somehow bone-deep exhaustion won.

"No," he said, letting his eyes fall back to the job at hand. "If I'd gotten to it several days ago, maybe, but it's already scabbing over. They were just careful enough not to kill him," he added, something black and hateful curling in his stomach, "but they didn't bother with antibiotics, or keeping the area clean. It's too late for me to try to cut it open again and suture it properly, I would only make it worse. I can remove the stitches, and I can turn the infection around, but the scar is- "

He swallowed thickly, and watched Raph brush gentle fingers over the smooth dome of Mikey's head. Raph's hands were careful, because a lot of Mikey's light skin was discolored, and pale yellow with old bruises; Mikey didn't stir at the touch.

"It's my fault," Raph said suddenly, and Don should have known, _god,_ he should have known Raph would do that. His bright eyes were dark with pain, his shoulders curved like he was trying to weather some terrible storm, and when he spoke again he was choking out the words. "It's my fault he left in the first place. My fault they got him, I ran him out. And even after all that, even with his brain under that bastard's control, he managed not to kill me." His head ducked low, and Don knew, the same instinctive way migrating geese knew north, that his big brother was crying. "Now his arm's messed up, and it's forever, and it's all my fault. No matter what, just 'cause of that, it woulda scarred ugly anyway."

And Don couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand the way Raph curled up when he was sad or hurting, the way he hugged his own body like he was trying to hold all the pieces of himself together. He couldn't stand the way Raph wouldn't quite look at him, hadn't quite looked at any of them for longer than a few seconds in the past week.

He couldn't _stand_ the way his brother suffered.

Finishing his careful doctoring on Mikey was the work of several more slow minutes; double-checking, feeling along his arms and legs, running fingers over his head in much the same way Raph had moments before, to check for any bumps or imperfections. Rubbing disinfectant over the raised, angry edges of the trailing wound on Mikey's arm, wrapping it neatly in a clean white fabric bandage. It would heal slower that way, but it would heal better, and Don cleaned his hands in a quick, procedural way once he was finished.

 _Slow but better,_ he thought, and faced his older brother.

"Come here," he said once he was ready, leveling Raph with the even, patented "doctor" stare he had perfected after years and years of the same three difficult patients. Raph stiffened a little in surprise- what, did he really think Don was going to leave him alone after that mess of self-recrimination he'd just revealed? _Really?_ "I want to check your head."

"My head's fine," Raph muttered, and Don didn't miss the quick, furious way he swiped at his face with the heel of one hand. And Don's heart ached for him. "Just take care of Mikey."

"I've done all I can for him now," he said, and it was difficult even if it was true. "I can do more once he wakes up. _You_ have been running around with a concussion, on top of a sprained knee, and how you've done it without falling off a rooftop I'll never know."

He grabbed his medical kit and stood from his chair, wheeling it over to Raph's side of the small cot. Watched Raph's eyes track him with some wary disbelief, and for a split second Don wanted to grab Raph's shoulders and shake understanding into the brain bouncing around somewhere in that thick skull.

Instead he sat down again, right in front of his brother this time, and put the med kit on the floor between them.

"Look at me," he said, taking Raph's face in both hands. Tried to ignore the puffy red around his eyes to check dilation of his pupils instead, tried to ignore how stiff and still he went as soon as Don touched him. "Tell me if anything hurts. And I mean it," he couldn't help adding, as he began unwrapping the gauze around Raphael's head. "You know I hate when you get all silent and stoic when I'm trying to patch you up. _Talk_ to me, Raphie, so I'll know how to help you."

Raph was shaking, and it almost wasn't fair of Don to corner him like this, when they both knew he wouldn't leave Mikey's side. Almost unfair, but not quite, because Don had to take care of him _somehow._ So Don didn't back off, didn't turn around to give him space.

Held on a little tighter instead.

"It's okay if it hurts," he said. Rewarded when, after what felt like an hour, Raph leaned into his hands.


	6. chapter five

A/N: Not much dialogue this time around, and only about four pages long. I'm trying to get the feel for this fic again, and this chapter found it's ending pretty naturally, so that's where I chose to stop. I know it's not quite as long as everyone is used to, but if I tried to double the length, I would probably double your wait as well. As long as the story gets told, a fluctuating length in chapters shouldn't be too problematic, right?

* * *

 **chapter five.**

He could tell when Mikey was about to wake up, 'cause the kid started whimpering in his sleep. It was a soft sound, a barely-there sound, but the rest of the lab and the rest of the lair were so damn quiet that there was no way Raph would have missed it, not from where he was camped right next to the bed.

Casey was asleep on one of Raph's shoulders, Don was asleep on the other. Everyone was exhausted, the kind of bone-deep tired that hit you like a freight train the moment you let your guard down. Don was a goner the moment Casey coaxed him to a chair. Casey was out maybe half a minute after that.

But Raph didn't think twice about nudging both of them awake, not when Mikey's eyes were moving restlessly behind his eyelids, his mouth turning down just barely at the corners. Such a far cry from the robotic expression he'd had under the effects of the serum that just the faint wrinkle of Mikey's brow- that first ripple of something _human_ and _feeling-_ was as good as a wash of technicolor across a world of black and white.

"Get up," Raph hissed, eyes riveted to the almost-expression on Mikey's face as he bumped Don's shoulder. Stupidly, he was afraid to do more than whisper; like there was a spell or a good luck charm he might break if he shouted. "Don, he's waking up!"

They should have come to slowly, as tired as they were, but even Casey's eyes were open fast. Then Don's chair flew back with a screech, and Casey was rushing for the door with a tumbled, "I'll get Leo," and Raph reached for his little brother's good hand.

"He's going to be disoriented and confused," Don said, but his voice was a rushed whisper, his fingers trembling as he ran a hand across Mikey's head. At his voice, Mikey shifted just barely, and turned his face a few scant inches into Don's palm. Don's eyes brightened, with joy or a sheen of tears or both. "He recognizes my voice. He knows me, Raph, it _worked."_

"'Course it did," Raph said back, his voice just as low. "We all knew you'd get it right." Something painful was happening to his heart, some slow, swelling surge of anticipation that seemed about to choke him, and he only tore his gaze away from his little brother when he sensed Leo approaching the door. His leader's eyes were stark blue and searching and desperately hopeful, and he lingered on the threshold like he wasn't sure if he belonged.

"Father's asleep again," Leo said, sounding so unlike himself it almost hurt. "I don't know if I should wake him up or not."

"Just c'mere," Raph told him, beckoning with the hand that wasn't curled around Mikey's. "Splinter will be here the next time. It ain't like Mikey's goin' anywhere."

That was all it took for Leo to finally cross the last few feet to Mikey's bedside. He crowded in next to Raph, and if he pressed in against Raph's arm a little, Raph wasn't gonna mention it.

Mikey's eyes slid open, two slivers of summer blue that made Raph's breath catch in his throat. The freckled ninja blinked once, then twice. Turned his head slowly, and stopped with a wince. His brothers cringed with him in sympathy, but none of them moved, hardly daring to breathe as Mikey slowly sorted himself out; his hands curling into loose fists then easing open again, legs shifting just slightly under the thin blanket.

But then his eyes landed on Don, still hovering over the bed. And he sucked in a sharp, painful breath, and _moved._

"Mikey, _no!"_ Don grabbed him by the shoulders, Leo darted forward to help, and a strangled whimper tore itself out of Mikey's throat as he struggled like a trapped animal beneath their hands. "Mikey, it's okay, you're home. No- this- Something's wrong," Don added, more to himself than anyone else in the room, eyes bright and panicked. "The serum is out of his system, he should be okay, _why-"_

"It can't be the serum, then," Leo said, struggling to pin Mikey to the cot without hurting him. "Shredder must have done something else to him. We should have been ready for this." The acid burn in his voice wasn't meant for Don. Raph can tell from the hateful gleam in his eyes that what Leo meant was, _"I should have been ready for this."_

But there wasn't time to deal with the mess in Leo's head just then. Raph joined the fray, leaning in to catch one of his baby brother's flailing arms and hold it down.

"Mikey," he said, surprised when his voice didn't break, "Mikey, take it easy. Can you hear me, buddy?"

The freckled turtle's mouth was turned down sharply on either side, a tight frown that looked as alien on him as all the Foot gear had, but after a few minutes of fruitless struggling, he went still- taut and stiff- under their three sets of hands. The blue of his eyes was gone, sheathed again by a guarded white, and he growled low, deep in the back of his throat, in a way that seemed to reverberate straight through his entire body.

And Raph felt the first cold touches of brand new fear. They were prepared to fight Shredder's forces, they were prepared to administer all the different stages of the antidote, they were prepared to treat Mikey's wounds and welcome him home under the strong arms of forgiveness and unconditional love, but _this..._

"Donnie," Leo whispered, and there was a gleam in Don's eyes that spelled tears.

"I don't know, Leo. I'll have to- I'll have to do some research. I'll need April, and Rockwell, if he's willing. Oh, god," he added weakly, "um… I'll need- "

"Whatever you need," Leo promised, staring at the scowl on Mikey's face like he was trying to etch it into memory. "I'll get you whatever you need."

Mikey strained under their combined weight, and Raph was startled at the unbending force in his little brother's arms; not enough to move all three of them back at once, but had he been alone, Raph wasn't sure he would have been able to keep Mikey restrained.

And Raph knew his own strength. Raph _knew_ his brothers.

The toothed ferocity in Mikey's face was born of desperation- like the kid was running on nothing but pure adrenaline and sheer defiance, like there was nothing left to his heart and soul but the ability to say _"screw you,"_ like he'd been fighting a losing battle by himself for so long that he forgot his own name and everything but the feeling of a weapon in his hands and some distant memories of something worth protecting.

Raph's hands tightened around Mikey's arm, something hot and stinging welling in the spaces behind his eyes.

Mikey was so damn _stubborn._ It was the only reason Raph was alive- the only reason there was anything left in Mikey to save. But he was- _stuck,_ he was _lost._ His well of strength had run dry a long, long time ago, and he was holding onto _nothing_ with both hands and fighting like he'd die for it, because nothing and death was a whole lot better than giving in, and bowing under a weight that would have already crippled anyone else.

"He's going to hurt himself," Don said, a ghost of himself, heavy doors closing in his eyes as he filled a syringe. "His arm needs to heal. He needs to _rest._ And I need time to- to figure this out."

Leo nodded, and Raph nodded a moment later, and Mikey didn't flinch when the needle went into his arm. Something flickered in his expression- not quite betrayal, not quite relief, but some uncomfortable inbetween- and he bared his teeth in defiance even as drugged sleep took him.

"I will figure this out," Don whispered. "I _will."_

Leo put an arm around the taller ninja's shoulders, leaving one hand free to stroke Mikey's shoulder. And it hurt, god, it hurt. Raph swallowed a lump in his throat and carefully didn't look at his only big brother. Leonardo always had to be so much and be so strong, and the only one of them capable of getting under his skin- of getting him to open up and sometimes laugh, and sometimes _share,_ and sometimes feel better, was the one of them Leo couldn't reach anymore, for all that he was right there under Leo's fingers.

There was a lot to do. There was a _world_ of shit to do. They had to take the news out to their family and extended family- "rescue's not over, guys." They had to research and understand what fresh hell Mikey was going through, what unseen tortures Shredder must have put him through to mess him up so bad that he would _recognize_ his brothers, and still try to fight.

They had to _fix this._

But they couldn't move from Mikey's side for what felt like a long time. Leo's hand moved from Mikey's shoulder, to his face, and the crown of his head; smoothing gently over the hurt skin the way he always had after nightmares and rough patrols, mapping something fond and familiar over the bruises.

And the rest of the whole world could have been burning, and Raph wouldn't have moved. Sometimes his vision tunneled, narrowed into _three,_ and just then, nothing existed but his brothers, and the soft way Donnie cried, and Leo's faraway eyes-

-and the tears slipping down Mikey's pale cheeks in his forced sleep, the way he turned his face scant inches into Leo's hands like he hadn't felt them in years, the way he sobbed his brother's names all through the night like he was reaching for ghosts.


	7. chapter six

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Have a much longer chapter this time around. (: As always, this fic is co-authored by the lovely _moogsthewriter,_ and all the trainwreck parts are prob my fault.

* * *

 **chapter six.**

The silence in the lab was heavy; the air was filled with breathless anticipation as five pairs of eyes watched Master Splinter anxiously. His breathing was slow, even, and meditative, but his brow was furrowed, and though the hands that gripped Mikey's forehead were gentle, Sensei's back was iron-stiff with tension.

Leo's hands twitched in the empty air, longing to be holding his katana - he _needed_ to join this fight. Three days had passed since that first time Mikey had awakened; the third time his baby brother had stirred, Leo had still held out hope that maybe _this time,_ he'd have his brother back. By the seventh time those eyes had opened and that face had shifted into a newly familiar mask of distrust, Leo knew better.

They might have rescued Mikey, but they hadn't _saved_ him yet. Leo had failed. _Again_.

Even now, he knew it was risky for Sensei to be straining himself like this. Though Splinter wasn't moving a muscle, the amount of energy it took to focus in the kind of meditation he was performing was immense. To try and connect one's mental and emotional self with another participant who was alert and aware and willing was difficult enough; to do so with someone in Mikey's state could very well prove impossible.

Yet there was nothing for it. They were out of options. _Leo_ was out of options, and because of that, his family had to take risks, the kind that could cost more than they could afford, should things go wrong.

It could have been minutes or hours, Leo wasn't sure; but when sensei finally came back to himself it was with the kind of clenched, pained breath Leo more commonly associated with pulled muscles or twisted joints.

He leaned forward, hands hovering, but sensei spoke before any of the rest of them could.

"I have reached him," he said, " _finally."_

Leo's heart leapt into his throat, at the same time his siblings exploded forward, glad, wordless cries filling the room like a balloon. But the set of their father's back—the tired slope of his shoulders, and the endlessly gentle way his clawed fingers smoothed over the dome of Mikey's head—saw a pit sinking in Leonardo's stomach again.

Similarly, Raph reached out tentatively with a soft, "Sensei? That's _good_ news, ain't it?"

But it wasn't, it couldn't have been—they were all putting it together now, the obvious sorrow in every line of Splinter's body, the bitterness in all the raw edges of his voice, and what that meant combined with what he said, and—

"He is so _lost."_

The weight of their father's anguish was crushing, and Leo swallowed hard against a sudden rising nausea. Saw out of the corner of one eye Raphael sink back again, in wide-eyed despair.

"Did you talk to him, sensei?" April asked, and her face was pale and drawn with worry, her eyes sharp with some awful combination of love and pain. "Did he hear you?"

"I could not get through to him." Splinter looked weary, sitting back only slightly, and continued his gentle stroking of Mikey's head. "The damage he has been dealt is largely psychological. He is confused and fiercely afraid—he has been _reconditioned,_ in a sense, and because of this, he cannot bring himself to believe what he sees _._ Subsequently, he no longer has trust in his senses."

"Recon… He was _brainwashed?"_ Donnie surged forward, like he would lurch to his feet, and only Casey's hand on his arm stayed him. Their genius brother was a bundle of nervous energy, a tripwire, consistently three seconds away from some terrible self-detonation, and it showed in every apprehensive twitch. "That's what you're saying. The Shredder _reeducated_ him, because the serum wasn't enough on its own. Because Mikey still managed to put up a fight."

"Because he had something to fight for," Splinter said, and it sounded like an explanation, even if it didn't explain very much. "The Shredder took that away from him, in as graphic and terrible a way as he could."

"I don't get it," Raph said, too curtly, his fingers white-knuckled where they curled into fists. "How do you know? I thought he wouldn't talk to you."

"He did not say anything, but what he is feeling—it is a feeling that I know well." The eyes their teacher lifted to them were old and tired. Leo didn't want to look at them, so he looked down at his little brother instead. "Michelangelo believes we are lost to him for good. His mindscape is dark and barren, like a scorched earth. He is wracked by loss. I do not understand what is driving him now, when all I can feel from his soul is absence and grief."

"He thinks we're dead?" Donnie asked softly, a ghost of himself. Splinter inclined his head, and Donnie stared at him like he'd never quite seen him before. "So—so he thinks this is some kind of trap," he continued, talking over himself in a discombobulated way, bright eyes turning away vacantly. "He won't talk to us because we're _not_ us, we're just another trick."

It made sense in an ugly way. Their poor brother—he was so _alone._

Leonardo didn't realize he was reaching for Mikey until the smaller, brighter hand was wrapped up in one of his. Mikey's _ki_ was so different, the aura Leonardo had known since birth feeling newly unfamiliar to him, but he refused to recoil the way a small, cowardly part of him wanted to.

He was unable to sitand do nothing. Unable to let Mikey continue to suffer here, in the safety of their home, only a foot away. He could feel the warmth of the rest of his clan, and if he focused, could count the individual beats of their hearts. It was fortifying, and one more steadying breath was all he needed.

Looking at Splinter, he said, "I want to try." His father didn't look surprised. The rat's hand was tender where it came to rest on Leo's shoulder, all the permission he needed.

Leo closed his eyes.

* * *

It was dark.

Leo took careful, measured steps forward- or at least, what he _thought_ was forward. He couldn't even hear himself breathing, and when he lifted a hand in front of his eyes, he couldn't see it. It was pitch-black _vacuum,_ a total absence of light and sound; isolation, in its purest, rawest form.

But Leo didn't hesitate. There was an innate sense of direction somewhere in the center of Leo's soul, something tried and true. He followed it without faltering even once, even when the ground underfoot was uneven and unsteady, even when the inky void seemed to press back against him like solid walls.

And then, light. The smallest, faintest fingers of light, reaching from a point dead ahead. Leo doubled his pace, breaking into a run through the dark. The farther he came, the lighter it got by the barest degrees, and then finally he came to a rice paper door, standing alone in the nothing else.

Sliding it open, Leo was greeted by the soft, broken sobbing of a child.

The room looked similar to the dojo at home- the rugs underfoot and the shrine against the far wall and the tall tree to one side of the main training area, opposite the doors that led to their father's rooms- but it was all tarnished. Worn and weathered, like after years of suffering terrible abuse in the form of storms or fire, the tree skeletal and shriveled, the mats shredded and discolored.

And in the center of it all, the source of the struggling light and the heartrending sobs both, was Mikey. Leo paused in the threshold of this strange, familiar place and drank in the sight of his little brother, at the age of what must have been five or six years old.

He was on his knees, curled around something he was clutching close to his center, and crying in earnest the way little children did when they thought their hearts were breaking, fat tears dripping from his cheeks and chin to stain the tatami mat.

Heart full to bursting, Leo took a step forward. _"Mikey."_

The child-sized version of his brother went stiff, head snapping up to pin Leo with wide, wild eyes. He made a choked sound, and the violent reaction wasn't one Leo was prepared for- his scuffling backwards without standing, glaring through tears and an all-consuming fear that drove a knife through Leo's heart.

And similarly, he could feel this mental place turn sharp against him, like a ward with pointed edges or a spiked wall, trying to push and tip him out. But he planted his feet, ready to soldier through anything Mikey might throw at him, because his baby brother was lost and suffering and so scared Leo couldn't _stand_ it.

He was willing and ready to stand through the end of the world if he had to, whatever it took to help his brother home.

"It's okay, Mikey," he called over soothingly. "It's just me."

But Mikey shook his head, bright-eyed and fierce, and clutching to the small scrap of paper in his hands with every ounce of strength left to his little body. Leo chanced another step forward, stopped when Mikey shrank back even more, and settled into a kneel where he stood.

"Don't you know me?" Leo said, keeping his tone light and gentle. "You must know me, Mikey. How else would I have found you?"

That rankled the younger turtle, and he blinked a few times. Then his face screwed into a scowl again, and he shook his head.

"Not you."

Leo couldn't help his heart _soaring_ at the sound- a little scratchy and hoarse, a little too soft and high-pitched, but that was _Mikey's voice,_ for the first time in- shell, Leo didn't want to _think_ how long. He reigned in the emotion- it was easier to do than it should have been here, in the dark and quiet headspace.

"You _don't_ know me?"

"No, I- " Mikey hesitated, eyeing him from his relative safety across the room. "I know you, but it's _not_ you. It's a trap. He wants to fool me into telling, but I won't. I won't tell him _anything._ I won't say a word," he said, a much older shadow crossing his face for just a split second, "no matter what."

And the pieces began to fall into place, Leo's heart breaking a little more with each of them in turn. "You think it's the Shredder? Trying to get answers out of you?"

Mikey flinched at the name, and Leo could have kicked himself, because new tears were dripping from Mikey's downcast eyes, and he hugged that paper to his plastron and did his best to speak through wracking sobs.

"B- But I _know_ it's a trap, 'cause- 'cause he took you all away forever, and now I'm- "

Leo pushed to his feet and moved closer on pure instinct, reacting automatically to his brother's anguish. He caught himself just short of an arms' length away, folding his fingers closed when they reached automatically across the distance and forcing himself into a kneel once more. But he leaned forward on his hands, putting himself as close as he dared, whispering, _"Mikey,_ no, it's okay. We're here. We're with you."

"You're _not,_ you're _gone!_ He showed me, I saw!" He was heaving, gulping for air as he keened in despair, rubbing uselessly at his wet face with the heel of one hand. "You're all gone and it's _my_ fault, he made me _watch_ over and o-over and over, and- and now- now I'm all alone! All that's l- left is _this."_ That little creased piece of paper, newly damp with fallen tears, and beginning to tear around the edges and along the crease formed in the middle.

That little paper, whatever it was, was all he thought he had left.

Wrath like Leo had never known before burned through him with a wild vengeance that should probably have left him shaken and cowed. It wasn't something to feel at that moment, when Mikey was so young and so broken and so desperately afraid, so Leonardo put that fury on a shelf for the time being, where he could easily reach it at a better time.

The Shredder would pay.

Someday- somehow- Leo would make him sorry.

But for now, he finally, finally reached over to smooth a hand over the dome of Mikey's head, to catch a few tears on his fingers and rub them away, to ease Mikey forward into the circle of his arms. Mikey was stiff at first, and then melted into what his heart must have recognized as something tried and true, clutching at Leo where he could with fingers that weren't busy holding onto that piece of paper and crying into the crook of Leo's neck.

From this angle, Leo could see it- a picture, a crayon drawing, in once-vibrant colors. Red, blue, purple, orange, and maroon all took center stage, smiling faces and familiar shapes; yellow and charcoal gray stood to one side, a tiny smudge of pink near the bottom, a huge, hulking green figure at the back, someone sinewy and snakelike standing in silver between the blue and maroon.

His family, as he had managed to preserve it. All he had left to fight for, all he had left to _live_ for, perpetuated entirely in the tearing, fading paper in those tiny, trembling hands. Fading to gray, fading to _nothing._

"I wish you were _real,"_ Mikey whispered. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too," Leo replied, just as soft, eyes tracking their bleak, barely-familiar surroundings. The void outside the open shoji door was beginning to yawn wider, and it crept a little closer into the faint, struggling light of Mikey's last remaining safe haven. This little room in the chaos of his compromised psyche, the one thing he had managed to preserve, was under siege, and he was slipping farther and farther away. "I wish I knew how to help you."

 _I wish there was a way I could make him feel safe._

And then his eyes fell on a pile of broken toys, and an idea occurred to him- a sudden flare of inspiration, probably largely thanks to the wildly creative mind he was currently squatting in- and he pulled back just enough to look down at Mikey with almost absurd fondness.

Everything was swift and fleeting here in the mindscape, detached and impersonal the way dreams sometimes were- even though he felt so _strongly_ , it would all hit him much, much harder when he finally had to leave. It would probably be _devastating_ , the weight of this place and Mikey's state, and the little scrap of paper in his hands, would probably be enough to cut Leo to his knees.

But for now, Leo smiled. "How about," he said, "I build you a wall?"

* * *

He opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the ceiling. It was dim and candlelit, and his vision seemed to be swimming- ah. He sat up, and rubbed his face dry of the tears that were still falling, staining the pale wraps on his wrists.

Mikey was still sleeping next to him, pale, freckled face smooth and untroubled. Leo had the sense of mind to send a prayer up to Shen- the only kindness he could imagine might be waiting for them there, might be willing to help them or listen- and _pleaded_ for their little brother's sake.

Please, please. Let it have _worked._ Let him be okay.

"How long was I out?" he asked quietly, downcast, as he reached for Mikey's good hand; knowing even without looking that his whole clan would still be there. Sure enough, a pale hand crossed his line of sight with a damp towel, and he blinked up into April's blue eyes as she cleaned his face. She wouldn't let him turn away even if he wanted to, strong fingers folding under his chin and keeping his head up, his posture tall, despite the new, desperate urge to always cringe away from them, to somehow hide his failures.

But he needed the support, he realized a second later; vertigo caught him by surprise, pitching him to one side. He fell against Raph, who wrapped a solid arm around his center and hauled him closer, and blinked into the warm cradle of his brother's shoulder. He was _weak_ with exhaustion, trembling with it, light-headed and supple-boned and short of breath- which didn't strike him as very reasonable, since all he had done with _sit_ there.

"For about an hour," Donnie finally answered, staring at him from not that far away. Casey reentered the room- Leo hadn't seen him leave- and passed their resident genius a sweating glass of cool water. "Sensei had to lie down again," he continued, shifting forward on his knees as April moved to one side and taking her place; helping Leo tip the glass with his more steady fingers wrapping around Leo's shaky ones. "He wore himself out. Leatherhead and Slash are with him, he's okay."

"Are you?" Raph asked gruffly. "I've never seen you so messed up after meditation before. When you fell over, I thought- "

"I'm fine," Leo replied. He looked at Mikey; April had resumed her seat next to him, running a cool hand over his forehead and down the side of his face, familiar and repetitive. "I found him."

Raph's arms on him tightened, and Donnie's eyes turned wide. "You found him?" Casey all but yelped, crawling forward to join their tight circle. His eyes darted from his adoptive little brother and back again. "What happened, Leo?"

"He was- " Leo shook his head, forcing his thoughts straight. "Everything was dark and- sort of busted up. Ruined and old, all colored black and gray and just- it was like those abandoned warehouses near the pier, without all the windows. And _he_ was- little. A baby, almost. He's been- _pushed_ back, forced into a corner, and all he had left of us is something really small, a picture that he drew from memory, but it's almost gone." The room was dead quiet as he spoke, like his siblings weren't even daring to breathe. Leo's confidence in himself was a thing of the past, but Raph was steadfast against him, and Don's face was patient, and April and Casey were there the way they always were, and Leo found the strength to continue a lot sooner than he thought he would. "He's been so quiet- on _purpose._ That's not the mind control, that's all him. The Shredder tried to get him to talk- to betray us, I guess- and Mikey just wouldn't. Not a word."

"That's- " Donnie blinked, and his eyes fell away to trace Mikey's face in something reverent. "That's brilliant. Cutting off speech entirely would _ensure_ he would be unable to betray any of our secrets. And when the serum went to work, Shredder must have just thought it was a new side-effect of perfect obedience. And really, it was all just our brave, stubborn little brother," he continued, softly, " _refusing_ to let us down."

"Guess that explains why he won't so much as _look_ at us when he don't have to," Raph said slowly. "Why he cries in his sleep."

"Shredder used ghosts of us against him before," Leo added, that hateful, black pit curling open in his soul. He did his best to stamp it down, to focus instead on his brothers and sister and the warmth and depth of how much he loved them. It worked in clearing his head and his heart. It probably always would. He took a breath, squeezed Mikey's hand, and continued, "So he just _wouldn't_ believe anything he saw or heard. He'd locked himself away in this tiny little room and he was clinging to the last thing he knew. It's just like sensei said. Mikey was so _lost."_

"'Was'?" April asked suddenly. She was staring at him with bright, lamplike eyes, the hope rising in them something painful and heavy. "Why 'was'?"

"'Cause I think, maybe" Leo said slowly, uncertainly, "I helped." The weight of their eyes was uncomfortable, but he forced himself to add, "I'm not sure if it worked. We won't know until he wakes up again. But- for just a minute, at least, I- "

Raph tucked him closer, at the same time Donnie surged forward, and he was sandwiched between them, snug in the circles of their arms. "Of _course_ you did," Don said, tearful in a way Leo was a hundred percent unprepared for. "Thank you, Leo. I _knew_ you'd do it."

"It might not have worked," he stressed, surprised by how terrified he was of their abject belief in him. "I don't know if it did or not, it was a silly, stupid idea- "

"We won't know until he wakes up, right?" April asked, and when Leo turned her way, she was already leaning over Mikey and rousing him gently. Nudging his face and kissing his forehead, urging quietly, "Wake up, sleepy shell. Let's see those baby blues."

"April," Leo started, almost hoarse with fear- shouldn't they _wait?_ What if it didn't work, he had probably failed again, they should wait for Splinter, wait for something more evident than just their absurd faith in a useless brother who had let them down over and over and over again-

But then the light hand in his was moving, fingers curling reflexively around his own, and Leo's heart leapt into his throat at the soft, sleepy noise the freckled turtle made. April sat back, and Raph's hands squeezed on Leo's arm tight enough to leave bruises, and brave Donnie leaned an inch or two closer to their baby brother, reaching out to lay a hand flat on the newly cracked plastron.

"Mikey?" he asked carefully, bleeding hope. "Are you awake?"

"I think so," came the unexpected reply, in a voice cracked and faint with disuse, sounding faraway and sick-sore and still the most welcome, beautiful sound in all the worlds combined. And then Mikey's eyes slid open, two slivers of bright summer sky instead of the guarded white they'd become so accustomed to, and he blinked around at each of them in turn, slowly, like he was coming up out of water.

"Hey," he added, the faintest whine creeping tiredly into his speech at the same time a long lost smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, "how come we're on the floor, Dee?"

From a hundred miles away, Leo heard Raph whisper, "How did you do it?"

Leo blinked through tears and shellshock, staring ahead vacantly while Donnie snatched Mikey off the mat by the shoulders and pulled him hard against his plastron- Mikey moaned and struggled uselessly, probably aching and sore, but gave in a moment later; leaning his cheek against Don's shoulder and blinking through exhaustion while April stroked his face and Casey burst out of the room at a run to get Splinter.

"I built him a wall," Leo replied slowly, too many seconds too late; and then the room tipped to one side and went black, and he fell through the darkness into sleep.


	8. chapter seven

A/N: So sorry for the wait. Hopefully this chapter is enough to make up for it! And as always, this fic is co-authored by the lovely Moogs.

* * *

 **chapter seven.**

Mikey managed to stay awake long enough for Casey and Splinter to come back. He was obviously exhausted, each blink heavier than the last, but he mustered up a smile for his father anyway; leaning away from Donnie and into Splinter's furred arms instead. He fell asleep right there, nestled in the soft maroon of Splinter's robes, and it was such an obvious, careless display of trust after so many days of fierce, guarded fear that it shook Donnie to his core.

After that, it took their little brother a few more tries to wake up and _stay_ awake. When he did, though, they were all there - the whole clan, family and extended family, crowded into the hospital half of Donnie's lab.

There were already a hundred questions in Mikey's eyes, and for the first time in his life he looked like he didn't know what to do with all the attention. But he smiled through all the hugs and conversation, and lit up at the sight of Leatherhead lumbering over. For all that he still moved stiffly, his body a sorry, messy map of hurt, he threw both arms - good and bad - around his giant friend in turn as Leatherhead folded him into a snug embrace.

"It is so good to see you well, Michelangelo," he rumbled warmly, and if he held on a few seconds longer than usual, no one called him on it. The night of the rescue had been hard on him; using brute force against his dear little friend had put deep shadows in his eyes that Don hadn't known how to touch.

"Jeez, you big softy," Mikey croaked, his voice still sounding a little like it came out through a cheese grater, but the crooked smile on his face was nothing but fond, and he leaned into Leatherhead's scarred chest comfortably. No love lost, it seemed, and Don smiled.

Splinter, Donnie and April had pulled chairs up beside the cot, while Casey, Leo and Raph sat around Mikey on the bed; and with the Mutanimals packed into the room, too, it was only a matter of moments before an unfamiliar uncertainty edged its way into Mikey's eyes, his wrapped fingers beginning to twist anxiously in the thin blanket pooled over his lap.

Slash and Leo exchange a lightning-quick, silent conversation over Mikey's head, and then Slash climbed to his feet.

"It's time for my boys and I to head out," he said. "We haven't done a patrol in awhile, who knows what the damn Dragons have been up to. Real glad you're okay, Mike."

His growling timbre was reassuring and kind, and Don could have kissed him right on the beak in gratitude for understanding- and for being there at all, for helping them so much, for not giving up on Mikey when the going got tough. Likewise, Raph's green eyes were overbright and hard to look at, and Leo sat forward, reaching over Mikey for Slash's massive hand.

No words were necessary. No words were _enough._ And nothing appropriate was safe to say in front of Mikey, who sat quietly in the midst of something he couldn't remember or understand. It seemed like sorry thanks, after everything, but Slash rubbed the back of his head and nodded, a little self-consciously, so the stark, fierce gratitude in their faces must have made an impression somehow anyway.

Leatherhead leaned in for another quick hug, prompting a bright grin from Mikey, then followed Slash to the door where Rockwell and Pete were waiting. Splinter rose, leaning heavily on his cane, to see the Mutanimals out. He spoke to them quietly, probably thanking them in private, and Don watched Mikey watch their father with narrow-eyed scrutiny - no doubt studying the slow, pained way Splinter was moving.

"Hey, Leo," he asked after a moment, hesitant - struggling to make eye contact, for some reason, and _that_ didn't bode well at all. "What happened? To Master Splinter, and Raph," Raph didn't flinch, but his mouth tightened in the corners, and Donnie's eyes were drawn immediately to the bandages wrapped around his head, "and... and what happened to me?"

He picked unconsciously at the gauze that wrapped most of the length of his arm, and it sent a chill through Donatello. Reaching across the small space between them, Don cupped the unbandaged part of Mikey's face in his palm. He wasn't sure if he'd ever stop feeling that tight thrum of pained relief at the warmth of Mikey, and the closeness of him - or that deep pang of guilt at the fact that even now, Mikey didn't lean completely into the touch the way he used to, and some of the warmth was missing from his eyes, replaced by shadows that Donnie doubted any light could truly touch.

"Nothing that some sleep won't help fix," Donnie said, keeping his voice light and his hands steady as he helped Mikey lay back down. Mikey's face twisted a little in confusion, but his eyes were already falling closed again. Don swallowed hard around the lump in his throat as he adjusted the blankets and tucked Mikey back in. "Sleep now, little brother, and we'll talk more tomorrow. I promise." And after a small hum of agreement, Mikey's breaths evened out as he slipped back into sleep.

Even this hadn't worked, not completely; those shadows Donnie saw proved that much. But it would _have_ to work. Donnie knew they had to _make_ the wall work. He always wanted to be honest with his family because nothing good ever came from lies this big, but there was no choice - the wall wouldn't hold if Mikey went scratching at it or tried to fill in the gaps by himself. If it broke, and all of those repressed memories poured out, Mikey would _spiral_ and regress and go back to that dark, desecrated room in his mind, and any progress they made and any healing he had managed would go up in smoke.

 _We really almost lost him,_ Donnie thought, remembering Leo's bleak blue eyes, Splinter's open-hearted desperation, Mikey drifting out a thousand miles away, even when he was close enough for Don to touch. _We came really close._

"Look, we can't lie to him, not after everything," Donnie said quietly. "Lack of communication and lack of trust is what caused this mess in the first place."

"But we can't just _tell_ him, Donnie," Leo replied, looking older than he had any right to. "You didn't see what it looked like in his head. He won't be able to cope with all of that - that darkness. At least not right now."

"We have to come up with somethin'." Raph's eyes didn't waver from their little brother's sleeping face. "We can't leave him in the dark."

* * *

So the next day, after discussing it between themselves - when Mikey didn't look so worn thin and tired, and it was clear he wasn't amused with their lack of solid answers - they told him that what had happened was an accident. A bad one. He had been separated from them and ambushed, and they didn't get there fast enough to help him in time.

It was a careful story, put together out of half-truths and vague omissions. Mikey looked thoughtful, not quite making eye contact with any of them, and nodded slowly.

"I think I remember that," he ventured, his forehead wrinkling faintly. "It was... raining. And it was dark. I think- "

"That is enough," Splinter interrupted, laying a furred hand on his arm. Leo and April were tense, too, and Don thought it was because they could feel Mikey poking at that mental barrier _already._ "Do not force the memories, not now. For now you only need to rest, and get well."

"Wait. Mikey. It was my fault," Raph blurted, in a voice that was rubbed raw with guilt and shame. "You gotta know that. We had a fight, and I- I pushed you. It was my fault you got hurt, I should have been there for you and I wasn't. I'm sorry, Mikey."

Don could have strangled him, and from the way April's hands closed into fists, he wasn't alone in that sentiment. But Raph needed to say it, that much was obvious - he needed to shoulder some of that blame and be forgiven, or he would never let himself move on.

Mikey just grinned at him - and for a moment, Don could believe it was almost exactly like normal, except it was a little too slow in coming - and bumped Raph's shoulder with his good one. "C'mon, Raph, you just said it was an accident. I know you didn't mean it. And anyway, I'm fine! Everything's fine." He kept his grin up, but his eyes dropped back to the bed, and that ever-present weight of guilt blossoming in Don's chest grew just a little more. "Everything's fine."

Donnie didn't believe that for a moment. He couldn't _let_ himself believe that, no matter how much he wanted to. Days crawled by, and it seemed pretty evident to him that everything was _not_ fine.

He found himself doing research, in the long quiet hours of the night, when the lair was still and peaceful and he was left alone. Set up in the pit with his laptop, he scrolled through countless search results, acquainting himself with a branch of medical knowledge he'd never had reason to study until now.

"Mikey's been showing all the signs of psychological trauma," he said one night to his unexpected company, glancing up to meet Casey's eyes over the screen of his computer. The human had gone wandering from Raph's room to the kitchen for a drink, and stopped at the sight of a wide-awake Don camped in the pit, then joined him there. "He's edgy, and irritable, and he's been _dissociating_ a lot - he never used to do that, Casey. His mood swings are sudden and volatile, he's been having trouble sleeping… "

"I can't say I noticed all that, but I agree with ya that he's not as okay as he wants us to think he is." Casey sank into the seat next to Don and leaned in to read over his shoulder, scanning the blocks of text with tired eyes. "He acts funny sometimes. He doesn't do all that hummin' and singin' and tappin' his feet, all that filler noise, you know? And he takes everything we say like we're _tellin'_ him to do stuff, and he just… does it. And every time that happens, I dunno who's more surprised by the weird obedience, him or us."

"Even with his memories repressed, they're doing a number on him," Donnie said slowly. "Like his _body_ remembers what it went through, even if his brain doesn't. It's almost as though he's suffering some strangled version of PTSD."

Casey blinked, and sat back to look at him. His face was more neutral than anything. "I dunno about all that."

Donnie bit his lip so he wouldn't blurt out something stupid, folding his hands into tight fists on the keyboard. He was stupid for bringing it up, when it was clear nobody else was as worried as him - not due to negligence or lack of care, but due to _hope,_ maybe, or ignorance, or -

Or maybe he was the only one seeing those shadows in Mikey's eyes, that blatant mistrust that telegraphed so easily in everything he did. It almost reminded Don of their first trip to Dimension X, and finding a Mikey who'd been seemingly abandoned by them for months - the dispassionate way he looked at them, the distance that sat between them like something physical, the way he had _not needed_ them like they were used to - all of that was familiar again, in the Mikey that was sleeping in his room just down the hall.

Casey bumped Don on the shoulder with his fist, pulling his thoughts out of their dismal nosedive. "Get outta your head, D. It's dark in there," Casey said, giving him a stern look - or as stern as he could manage at four o'clock in the morning. "Listen - at the end of the day, I trust you. Just 'cause I ain't seen all of what you have don't mean it's not there. Wouldn't be the first time you've picked up on somethin' the rest of us have missed." The words sent a warm glow through Donnie, and he couldn't help but smile despite his misgivings, and the tight coil of subdued panic in his chest.

"Thanks, Jones."

"Don't mention it." He stood, ran a hand through his mop of hair, and only hesitated a moment before he added, "Look, if you think this is somethin' worth bringing to everybody, I'm behind you a hundred and ten percent. But… maybe things are as good as they can get for now. It's only been a few days, and he just went through hell - give him a chance to get his head back on straight, get used to bein' home. Maybe it'll just - y'know, just take some more time."

* * *

Donnie lasted nearly a week in keeping his silence, holding out that borrowed hope that things would get better on their own. But now he was cradling a cup of tea in both hands, feeling an inch tall under his father's x-ray eyes, and wondering at how much farther their family would have to sink before they realized they were drowning.

"There is something heavy weighing on your mind," Splinter said, missing nothing with those sad, aged brown eyes. "I had hoped you would come to me, but perhaps that was foolish, given how little help I have been to you recently."

That got Don's head up, and fast. "Sensei, _no._ That isn't your fault. Tigerclaw put you out of commission, you didn't-"

"No," Splinter corrected gently, "it was Michelangelo who did. And of all your siblings, I think you alone know that."

Don's mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked together, and his eyes fell as he thought back to the the moment Tigerclaw had thrown their father at their feet on the night of their first attempt to get Mikey back. And the odd way the tiger mutant had denied involvement in Splinter's defeat. Leo and Raph hadn't thought past it, but Donnie couldn't stop turning it over and over in his mind. Coupled with the intense, bulldozing way a mind-controlled Mikey fought, how easily he had dropped Raph with a swing of that fundo - reluctantly, morbidly, Don had drawn the connections.

But he hadn't shared that theory with the class. It would have only stirred the pot, and his big brothers were consumed by hate enough as it was.

Splinter missed nothing, though, and seemed to be waiting for an answer, so Don nodded. "Hai, sensei. I knew."

"You are so clever, Donatello. You see things others miss, and you have an understanding of Michelangelo that is unique to you. Please, my son," Splinter said, leaning across the small table to cup the side of Don's face in one tender, clawed hand, "talk to me. Tell me what is frightening you, so that I may help."

Well, that - that was a pretty long list. Don's mouth trembled, but he _would not_ give into stupid, childish tears. Where did he even _start?_

First of all, he hadn't gotten any work done. At all. Even those few, rare moments he could get his distracted mind to square up and focus, every second in his lab was a second Mikey was out of his sight, and that made his skin crawl.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Mikey was going to disappear again, as stupid as he knew that was. Splinter had mandated _no one_ was to leave the lair, not after the upset they caused with Shredder and the Foot, and Mikey was still too sore to get very far even if he did uncharacteristically decide to run off against all of their wishes and their father's orders.

Though 'uncharacteristic' seemed to be a fairly loose term these days. Mikey hadn't been himself lately, but even that felt unfair to think. Of course what he had been through had changed him, but it changed him ways that Donnie couldn't understand - that Mikey _himself_ didn't understand, because Mikey didn't _remember._

That mental wall may have saved him - and Donnie would always be grateful to Leo for that, no matter what - but now it was standing in the way, and Don didn't think any of them were willing to risk bringing it down just for the sake of clearing the air.

Mikey had been eager to leave the infirmary initially, but he wandered the lair with an odd sense of displacement, like he hadn't seen the walls and the rooms in years. When Don cleared him for light exercise two days ago, Mikey flinched so badly from a flash of light reflected off Leo's katana in the dojo that they hadn't held training since.

Mikey couldn't look them in the eyes after that, red with shame as he stammered out a confused apology. Raph had put an arm around his shoulders without hesitation, and Splinter was quick to soothe him, but Don had watched Leo look from his sword to the long bandage on Mikey's arm, and made the connection through his blue-banded brother's own sudden, horrified understanding.

Leo had had to leave a katana behind, after that first fight with their brainwashed brother. Now Donnie knew what the Shredder had used it for.

"And the _nightmares,"_ he added, just barely above a whisper. "Father, they're - he wakes up in a _panic_ , yelling or crying _,_ and when we rush in and we ask what's wrong, he can't tell us. He's so upset and so scared - and he doesn't like to be touched anymore, you've noticed how twitchy he is - but right after those nightmares, he won't let us go." Don rubbed at his eyes, ashamed to find himself so close to tears. "Mikey can't remember what those awful dreams are about, but I think I _know_ , and - how can he heal from this? How can he get better if it's all locked up in a place he can't reach?"

Splinter rose, moved around the table, and knelt again right beside him; put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close, and Donnie shuffled even closer.

He wanted to _help_ his brother, it's all he wanted to do, but he was so scared of hurting him again. This whole thing had started because they didn't hear him out, they didn't listen to what he said or what he wanted, they didn't _trust_ him, and it pushed him away.

Donnie had broken enough in his brother already. He couldn't lose him again.

He couldn't lose _anybody -_ and that was exactly what was keeping him from going to Leo. His big brother had had to carry them through this mess up until this point, and his shoulders were probably permanently bowed by the weight of the family, the weight of his whole world.

But Splinter was strong and solid, and he stroked Donnie's carapace the same way he did when Donnie was much smaller. And Donnie felt hollowed out and relieved, glad to be rid of those words he'd been keeping bundled in a knot inside his chest, and looked up at Splinter from where he was tucked into his side.

"It feels like we're cheating him this way. We want this all to be forgiven, not forgotten."

It was a long moment before his father spoke into the peaceful, quiet room. And when he did, it was simply, "We'll need to gather the others. I have an idea."

* * *

"We can't stay here," Leo announced, blue eyes sweeping over his family where they all clustered at the kitchen table. "I've talked it over with Master Splinter, and it's just too risky. We really ticked off the Shredder, and he's on a warpath - Slash and his team are staying on the down low, and it's best we do the same."

He sounded like his old self for a moment, taking calm control the way he used to, and Donnie could almost forget this whole speech had been rehearsed and tweaked a dozen times in the dojo. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed their fearless leader.

"Ain't that what we _been_ doin'?" Raph interjected, leaned back in his chair. "We ain't gone topside in days."

"Try _weeks_ , dude," Casey said helpfully. April reached around Mikey to shove Casey's shoulder, and Mikey leaned forward to let her, grinning. Ice Cream Kitty sat in a bowl in his lap, and eagerly licked his chin when he brought it close enough for her to reach.

"Yes," Leo said dryly, "but obviously a few of us are getting restless. We could all use a little fresh air. Sensei thinks it would be a good idea for all of us to go to the farmhouse for a little while."

"That makes sense," Donnie contributed. "It's safe, remote, well outside the city - and the Shredder would have no idea where we are. The Mutanimals could keep an eye on things here, and we could take a break."

"Can we?" Mikey asked, looking at Leo with round blue eyes. He hadn't worn a mask once since they got him back, and his bare face looked so openly beseeching that Donnie thought they might have agreed to anything he said at that point. "I mean - if it's sensei's idea, then it's a good one, right?"

"Right," Leo replied, right away. It was the first thing Mikey had asked for since before he was taken, and even if it wasn't already decided they would go, Donnie knew they would have decided for him regardless.

And for the first time since Mikey woke up - _really_ woke up, as himself, instead of the wounded shell the Shredder had turned him into - Donnie felt an absurd burst of hope. Mikey was all smiles as he helped Splinter and April pack up the groceries, and hummed quietly as he dragged out his kitty's cooler. It almost seemed like the beginning of a new chapter, like they were getting ready to turn the page on this nightmare and move forward.

But the absurd hope was short-lived.

In the back of the van, as Casey pulled onto the road, Donnie leaned over to show Mikey the new number he'd programmed into his T-Phone; explaining the custom cell he'd made for Leatherhead, so Mikey could reach him anytime, and then basking in his baby brother's gleeful, "Oh, wow, _thanks,_ D!"

But in such close quarters, Donnie couldn't pretend not to notice how quickly Mikey grew quiet again. And he kept busy on the phone, maybe hoping no one would notice his lapse from the conversation - but his fingers curled tightly around the shell-shaped casing every time their father spoke, like Splinter's voice was _grating_ to his ears, and by the time they were two hours into an almost four-hour-long road trip, Mikey was visibly gritting his teeth.

"Halfway there, Mikey," Donnie offered at that point, feeling uneasy at how obviously miserable his little brother seemed to be. "Just hang in there, okay?"

 _Please, please - hang in there._


	9. chapter eight

A/N: I would usually take this opportunity to apologize for the wait, and offer some kind of explanation as to why this update took so long. But honestly, I'm feeling just a little ungracious at the moment. _Please_ don't badger me about updates. It means the world to me that you're enjoying the story, but I really don't appreciate multiple PMs complaining about how long it's taking me to write. Trust me: I know how long it's been. I don't need active reminders.

* * *

 **chapter eight.**

This little mini-vacation wasn't the magical cure-all Raph's family seemed to be hoping for. Everything stayed pretty much the same, except that Mikey had more space now to disappear.

There was no ignoring the wary tension in every line of the kid's body when one of them got too close. The Mikey of two months ago - the over-affectionate, happily demonstrative Mikey, who gave out hugs as easily as Raph gave into his temper - seemed to be a thing of the past.

And whose fault was that?

 _Mine,_ Raph thought viciously, dealing their makeshift punching dummy another vicious kick. _All my fault._

He started that _stupid_ fight, that night everything went to hell in a handbasket - _he_ was the one who all but pushed Mikey out the door, straight into the arms of an ambush. _He_ was the one who failed to get through to him, the first time they encountered him under the haze of the Shredder's mind control. _He_ was the one who cost Mikey that awful, ugly scar on his arm - because even after everything, even after his brothers had failed him time and time and time again, some small, safe, secret part of Mikey was still loyal and loving. And despite all the traitorous neutrinos firing in his brain - those electric impulses that had no choice but to bend to the Shredder's will, that monster's voice in every nook and corner of his mind, ordering him to _kill, conquer, betray -_ Mikey stood his ground, stayed his hand, spared their lives. And he _suffered_ for it, so much and so badly that he couldn't cope.

And that was on Raph. It was _all_ on Raph.

Not to hear Leo tell it, though.

"What was I thinking?" Leo had hissed through clenched teeth a few nights ago. Raph found him on the back porch, hands curled so hard around the railing the splintered wood probably cut into his palm in a few places, shoulders bunched up by his ears, shelled spine curved. Bowing under the impossible weight of his failure, about to break with it the way he had refused to be broken by it before. "The wall was such a _stupid_ idea, what was I _thinking?"_

And Raph should've - said something. Should have reached out to him. Should have _touched_ him, hell, with an arm around his shoulders or a hand on his arm, something, anything to bring him back from that dark, hateful place he seemed to go when he was all alone.

But instead Raph had just stood there, offering his company, commiserating in the silence, half-afraid to touch this Leo who was so close to flying apart. And it took close to an hour, the sun dipping slowly behind the trees, dying the sky purple and orange, but _finally_ Leo had shifted enough to lean his weight against Raph's side; and Raph let go of a breath he was holding, and slung his arm around Leo's shell.

Raph wasn't much help to anybody these days, but god help him, he was gonna _try._ And Leo deserved it; Leo was the only reason in the world that they still had a little brother to save.

And on the subject of little brothers - Donnie had it pegged right from the very start. And not for the first time in his life, Raph found himself wishing they'd listened to him sooner.

"It's definitely some kinda PTSD," Casey had said in muted tones, right after breakfast earlier that morning, mostly just for Donnie but audible enough for the rest of them, too. And Don had lifted tired, bagged eyes up to meet Casey's, so weary with worry and fear that it was no small miracle he was still on his feet at _all,_ and hinged himself upon their human brother's every word _._ "Has to be. He gets the same look in his eye my dad does after a bad flashback. And I mean… do you _see_ the way he looks at Splinter?"

It was hard to miss; the cold schooling of his features when their father spoke or came near, a curl of contempt and something so dark and angry it could have been _hatred_ crossing his young, smooth face. And they had no idea why-and as frustrating as that was, Raph thought, maybe it was _fair._ Because Mikey had no idea why, either, and that was _their_ fault.

"It probably ain't a textbook example," Casey added slowly, paraphrasing what doctors must have told him and his sister countless times over the years following their father's necessary retirement from the NYPD, "but he _goes_ somewhere when he gets that look on his face, and wherever it is, it's _ugly_. And a word or a color or a smell could trigger a trip back to that ugly place. And that trigger switches a flip in his brain. It turns on the fear juice, and his body starts pumping adrenaline, getting ready for a drag-out brawl or a run for his life. It's just his subconscious picking up on a danger that ain't really there, tryin' to protect himself from somethin' terrible that hurt him before."

"But for Mikey," Donnie continued, mostly for the benefit of the rest of them, "it's different. It's disorienting and confusing, because there's a great big gap where a terrible memory should be, and his _body_ remembers every moment of it on a _physical_ level, even while his consciousness forgot."

Movement across the yard drew his attention, and Raph straightened, putting out a hand to stop the swinging dummy's momentum.

That was - _Mikey_. And he didn't have his chucks, but he was obviously gearing up to start a kata, feet set and bandaged shoulders squared. Raph hurried around the tree and across the grass, only slowing his approach when he was close enough that he could call out quietly and still be heard.

Didn't mean to startle the kid, but Mikey whirled around anyway, blue eyes wide and electric in the warm afternoon sun.

"Woah, hey," Raph said, raising his hands and adopting a lopsided smile he could barely feel. "Just me."

And just like he knew would happen, Mikey's eyes darted up to the white bandages around Raph's head, and immediately the barbed caution in his face softened, and all the tense lines of his body went lax.

"Hey, Raph," he said hoarsely. And Raph _hated_ that it was only some confused, subconscious guilt that made Mikey willing to stick around and talk to him, but at the same time Raph was desperate enough to take it anyway. "How, uh - how do you feel?"

"Don't worry about me, little brother," he said, moving around Mikey - carefully keeping an arm's length between them, because the kid was in one of his particularly jumpy moods - and leaned against the raised front of the porch. "I've had worse than a little knock on the head, you know that."

"Yeah," Mikey said slowly, and his smile mirrored Raph's for a split-second; a twitch of his lips that looked more like muscle memory than anything else, a mirror neuron.

"How do _you_ feel?" Raph asked casually, relieved the conversation took a natural turn in that direction. Mikey was practically a stranger to the rest of them now; coming alive in brief, temporary snatches of laughter or incredulity, but more often than not so far removed from their little clan that he might as well still be back-

No. No, even this was better than him in the hands of that _monster._

"I'm fine," Mikey said immediately, picking at the thick bandages on his arm. "But, um - can I ask you something?"

And this was _familiar,_ this was Mikey when he needed reassurance, Mikey when there was a question he was afraid to ask, and Raphael had to steel himself not to reach out and _snatch_ whatever it was away into the safety of his own hands.

Instead he nodded calmly and waited, a river washing over stone; rewarded _impossibly_ when Mikey said, in very small voice, "Do you think something's wrong with me?"

His eyes were as wide as the world. And for a moment, Raph couldn't breathe through how hard he _ached_ for this kid.

"What do you mean?" he said, very carefully. Mikey looked away, looking miserable.

"I can't - I don't know how to explain it, Raphie. I look at dad and I wanna - _hurt_ him, and - sometimes you guys will be talking, just sitting around and talking about nothing, and it makes me want to get up and _run._ It feels like I don't - " His hands trembled, and he balled them into fists, blinking rapidly. "Like I don't _know_ you. Like you're strangers, and I'm not safe here."

For a moment, Raph couldn't move. Then he was pushing himself upright and taking a step forward, despite the way it made Mikey curl a few inches away, and the only thing he wanted in the world was to yank his impossible little brother into a hug and maybe never let go.

"I'd burn New York City to the _ground_ before I let anything bad happen to you again," he said fiercely. His eyes and throat were burning, like he was standing too close to an open fire. "There's nowhere in the world you're safer than right here with your family, Mikey. I _promise_."

Mikey shuddered, rubbing his arms. He was hunched in on himself, standing in the broad sunshine like he was sheltering from some terrible storm, and he wasn't looking at Raph anymore, but he nodded. Eyes overbright and desperately hopeful, trying to find truth and trust in what Raph was saying.

 _He used us against you,_ Raph wanted to tell him. He could practically taste the words in his mouth. _You thought we were dead. And you still can't trust what you see, because you were never really rescued. Because you buried yourself so deep we couldn't pull you back out._

But he couldn't tell him that. And then he didn't get the chance to tell him anything, because the back door was swinging open, and Donnie's voice and April's were coming around the corner of the veranda, and Mikey's open, unguarded expression shuttered closed so fast it gave Raph whiplash.

"Nevermind," Mikey said quickly, eyes darkening. "Thanks, Raph. Uh - I came outside to train, so - "

He left in a hurry and Raph cursed, loudly and with feeling, just as his siblings joined him. April raised her eyebrows.

"Was that Mikey?" she asked, shading her eyes against the sun and squinting in the direction Raph's little brother disappeared. "I haven't seen him since breakfast, where has he been lurking?"

"Hell if I know," Raph bit out, rubbing his face roughly with the palm of his hand. He felt like he was coming apart with worry and guilt and frustration, and there was no familiar Mikey to hug him all back together again. "Guys, we _gotta_ tell him. He thinks there's something wrong with him. What we're doing _ain't_ working, can we just give up on it already?"

There was the barest beat of silence, and an indecipherable look passed between Donnie and April - but then April's small, work-hardened hand was on Raph's shoulder, and she said, "I think you're right. We should talk to Splinter about it."

"But first, I need to check up on Mikey." Donnie held up his makeshift medical bag. "He keeps dodging me, but I _really_ want to make sure his arm isn't infected."

"He said he was going to train," Raph said, and gestured in the direction Mikey had taken off. He probably followed the beaten path from the yard through the trees into the thin woods on that side of the house. "He went that way."

Donnie's expression rotated rapidly through a myriad of conflicting emotions, before settling on 'faintly ticked off.' "I told him _not_ to train, but maybe I should have known better."

He definitely should have known better. It was a small miracle Mikey listened to anything they told him anymore, without at least a fleeting flash of doubt in his eyes. He had always been _impossibly_ perceptive when it came to his brothers, while crooks like Bradford could talk circles around him as easy as breathing. Maybe it had more than a little something to do with fifteen years spent in nothing but one another's company - but whatever the case, it was no small wonder that Mikey had subconsciously pegged them all as liars. With his family, at the very least, Mikey recognized deceit.

Raph pushed his way through some leafy brush and held the larger of the branches aside for his siblings to duck past. Mikey had been in a hurry when he came through, which was the only reason his tracks were possible to follow. Raph and April let Donnie lead, less because his eyes were better, and more because it was _Donnie._

Sure enough, Raph's faith in his little brother's uncanny ability to track down his freckled counterpart was rewarded when they stepped soundlessly into the wide clearing Mikey was using to let off a little steam. And he was relieved to see the kid wasn't overdoing it, either - just rolling out a few doctor-approved exercises, movements fluid and unhurried, every bit like it was a lazy Saturday morning in the dojo back home, harmless months ago.

But he hadn't heard them arrive - _ninjas_ , and all that - so when April said, "Hey, Mikey," the turtle flinched violently and flung out an arm as he turned to face them, wide eyes hooded white. And it was only very quick work on Donnie's end and a neat twirl of his bo staff that deflected the handful of knives Mikey had thrown at them, the sharp kunai glinting as they thudded harmlessly to the ground.

Mikey stared at them, chest heaving. He looked ready to crawl out of his skin, fingers twitching, breath uneven. Raph took one cautious step forward, and Mikey matched it with a single step back.

"Stay away from me," he said, hoarse and fierce and breathless with agony. "Raphie, stay away."

"It's okay," Raph said, ignoring the way his chest hurt in response to his kid brother's visible pain, like he was kicked in the plastron by a horse. "Mikey, c'mon. It was an accident, we shouldn't have snuck up on you. You're not gonna hurt anyone."

The moment trembled between them, one second long, then two - then, horribly, Mikey's eyes darted up to the bandage on Raph's head. And Raph's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, because even without _knowing,_ even with the mental barrier up between Mikey's psyche and the consequences of the torture that carved him out of his shell, Mikey was smart enough to put one and two together.

Scritch-scratching at the wall, even though they told him over and over to _leave it alone, let it be, don't touch,_ because he wasdesperate to fill the void in his head where weeks of memory should have been. Desperate to remember, even if all the memories were incriminating and painted him a monster.

Desperate, because he was trapped in himself and scared, and lashing out in what he didn't realize was pure self-preservation, post-traumatic stress. Thinking in endless circles, and shying away from family and familiar, and always trembling between fight-or-flight.

"Mikey," Donnie said abruptly, "listen to me." Mikey jerked feverish blue eyes off Raph's face to hit Don with them instead. Don didn't flinch. He moved forward instead, so sure of himself that everyone else was too taken aback to do more than just watch. He hooked a firm hand around Mikey's elbow, the one on his good arm, and Mikey blinked. Taken aback. Like Donnie had just fearlessly approached a massive beehive or an angry wolverine, not his baby brother.

"If you come back to the house with me right now," Don said, "and let me look you over, I'll tell you everything."

April made a soft sound in the back of her throat - like the beginning of a protest that she swallowed back instead - and Raph, for his part, just _stared_ at him. They couldn't do that, not without talking it over with everyone else first. It had to be a lie, just to get Mikey to unthaw a little, and nod once, and fall into step with them, still shaking and anxious and flexing his empty hands. It _had_ to be a lie.

But every sidelong look Raph darted Donnie's way only made it more obvious. He was holding Mikey tight against his side, and his steps were measured and his eyes were narrow, and he was going to sit Mikey down and tell him what he wanted to hear, no matter what god or anybody else had to say about it.

And Raphael's heart was racing; one part panicked, and two parts relieved.


	10. chapter nine

a/n: Only an epilogue left now.

* * *

 **chapter nine.**

It was never a permanent solution. In the back of his mind, Leo always knew that.

The strings holding up this marionette procession of willing blindness and empty faith were always going to snap, and sooner or later their happy ending would crumble under its own weight into the broken pieces they started with.

But it was worth it, he had thought, worth _anything_ to take Mikey out of that dark, colorless place - to bring him home, where it was light and warm and he wasn't haunted by the ghosts of the family that had failed him.

Even if only _temporarily_. And wasn't that _selfish_?

To save Mikey from the dark, only to ultimately lose him to it again. To give him a freedom with a deadline, only because his brothers couldn't bear the alternative.

Donnie was still holding onto his little brother, with an arm around his shoulders that probably felt like steel, as if he was afraid of what might happen if he let go. Mikey's eyes were round and moonlike - this was as close as he'd come to the rest of them in days, and he looked to be in something of a state of shock, frozen with his hands folded tightly against his own plastron.

April and Raph were their vanguard. The four of them came in from the yard together, and seemed to have come to some kind of weighted decision together, and faced the rest of the family like they were facing an opposing army.

It wasn't good news, then.

"What has happened?" Splinter asked quietly. His voice was mild - gentle, without bowing into the affection that seemed to make Mikey's skin crawl anymore - but it still sent a soft shudder through the youngest member of the group, and Leo knew what the look Donnie gave him was supposed to mean.

"You should be resting, father," he said as genuinely as he could, turning to touch his father's arm. The deferring oldest child, the honorable son, and as much a snake in the grass as the real thing. "Casey, would you mind - "

"'Course not," ever reliable Casey replied, as quick on the uptake as his ninja siblings. And maybe Splinter understood, too - or _of course_ he did - because he allowed himself to be herded out without so much as a reproving word, as exhaustively resigned to whatever was necessary as the rest of them were.

Mikey relaxed the second his shadow was gone from the doorway. Leo thought of the way Mikey used to wake up early in the morning to seep father's tea even before he started making his brothers breakfast; the way he used to resort to a wily cleverness far-flung from his usual brash humor to sneak a laugh out of the perpetually composed rat; the way he was the first of the four of them to learn how to walk because he so eagerly wanted to follow Splinter even when he was nothing more than a tall stranger to them in the dark sewer that was not yet home; the way Mikey loved their father endlessly, every bit as much as he loved his difficult brothers. And now there was something of a brick wall between them, built by Leo's own hands, and Leo very emphatically wished he could _hit_ something.

"Okay," he said, doing his best not to sound as weary and angry and awful as he felt. "Talk to me."

"I made a deal," Donnie said coolly. There was a familiar, ferocious stubbornness in his voice that disappeared the night Mikey had and was missing ever since, and under the circumstances Leo wasn't sure he was happy to see it back. "I'm going to make sure Mikey is still healing up properly, and once I do we're going to have a talk."

It didn't come as any surprise. April's features were schooled perfectly, but it would take twenty years of forced separation and twenty more of total blindness for Leo not to be able to read Raphael's face like a familiar book.

Leo very carefully didn't react. Donatello took the non-reaction for the answer it was, finally letting go of Mikey to face Leo head-on.

"Just _listen_ to me," he snapped, somehow heated without changing his tone. "This has gone on long enough. It isn't fair, and it isn't right, and it's _time -_ "

"He isn't getting better," April said quietly, eyes fiery. "It isn't working this way, Leo. You bought us time, but we didn't do our part. We didn't fix anything and now that time is running out."

"Whatever goes wrong," Donnie said, surging a step forward, "I'll fix it, okay?"

And Leo couldn't deny any of them, really, not when they got this way. When they _burned_ with belief and enough willpower to pull down the sky and all he wanted to do was lift them up higher any way that he could.

And he couldn't come up with a good enough argument against it, anyway - he couldn't put into words how desperate and devastating Mikey's mental space was when he had dared to venture in. It felt like _moments_ ago that he was there, standing in the ruins of the dojo and the shell of their home as everything turning to ash and dust and darkness, their baby brother caught in the center with no way out and no fond memories left to lean on and nothing left to do but let his own heart break beneath that impossible weight.

He couldn't explain it well enough to make them understand, how much he never wanted Mikey to be there again. How willing he was to build wall after wall after wall, to keep Mikey from that frightening place forever. He didn't think the risk was worth it. There was no way to catch all the darkness that would come pouring out of whatever hole they punch open, there was no way to contain it, no way to burn it away - that palpable suffering, the heavy shadow that filled his senses, that Leo could still taste like sulfur in the back of his mouth.

But he didn't know how to _say_ it, how to frame it in terms that would bring the horror of it all to light.

So he was caught there, between helpless acquiescence and weary denial, and he wasn't sure what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, but then it didn't matter - Raph beat him to the punch.

"Mikey?" Raph said slowly, his tone ringing alarm bells in Leo's mind. He and Donnie and April whirled at the same time to face the other two, and Leo all but swallowed his heart at the expression on Mikey's face.

 _Horror,_ he was horrified, and his blue eyes were electric with something much more painful than fear, and he all but _fell_ away from them when his siblings took a careful step forward.

"D- Don't - "

He would talk if he could _breathe,_ Leo thought through a wave of his own panic. But Mikey was still pressing his hands to his plastron, and this time it was in a gesture Leo recognizes, a gesture of drowning on dry land, overcome and overwrought and -

The wall came down.

April was stiff and still beside him, and Leo knew that with the extent of her psychic prowess, she felt it, too. The crumbling of the only barrier standing between Mikey and his memories of mind-control.

Donnie and Raph inched forward, talking in low voices, reaching out with hands that shook, but Leo was frozen, trying to think of _how._

What happened, what triggered it? Mikey scratched at that mental blockage _constantly,_ his own innate curiosity and the desperate sense of wrongness overshadowing his family's constant stern warnings, so it wasn't as sturdy as when they started, but - surely it wouldn't have come apart so easily, surely not without a _reason._

The answer came to him quickly. Leo wasn't as sharp as April and Splinter, or as technologically inclined as Donnie and Casey, he couldn't make the leaps of faith or logic that Raph and Mikey were prone to - but he led a team of warriors night after night through brutal battles and subterfuge and gang war, and he knew he was his own type of genius.

And his tactical mind brought up the night of Mikey's disappearance, when their little brother hopped the turnstiles without a backwards glance and left the rest of them in the rapidly cooling aftermath of a heated argument. Raph had attacked the punching dummy with a snarl, working out his frustration the only way he knew how, and Donnie had curled up in his seat on the couch, with round eyes and his phone already planted against his ear.

When he wasn't calling, he was texting, or tapping into the GPS system open on his laptop, or pacing unhappily. _Just come home,_ he sent, he said, he tried to impart through the limited means he had available, thrown desperately off-balance with Mikey gone the way he had gone, _whatever went wrong, I'll fix it. Just come home._

And Leo thought of Mikey's cracked T-phone, recovered from the wreckage of the alley he was abducted in. Thought of the last text message his brother read, one of Donnie's, _I'll fix it, okay?_

Donnie's face was white, the words he spoke moments ago probably sitting like ash on his tongue, and Leo knew he knew what was happening, too. And now Mikey was stumbling back from them, chest heaving as he tried to force air into unwilling lungs, burdened and helpless by the onslaught of months' worth of painful memory.

"Mikey," Leo said numbly, "I'm so sorry. Please - I'm sorry, Mikey, I was only trying to -"

"Don't!" Mikey said shrilly, slamming into the wall behind him, reacting with too much force to the hand Raph put out towards him. Manic blue eyes darted to the bandages on Raph's head, _knowingly,_ and Leo thought he might be sick. "Don't _touch_ me, get away from me!"

"Mikey, please," April begged, but he was moving a moment later, running like a creature hunted, sixteen years of lethal training propelling him with devastating speed away from his family and through the house that was once their second home.

He was clumsy, though. He tripped over one of the traveling bags in the hall, caught himself against the wall, and that was all the time it took for his brothers to fall in around him.

Mikey sobbed at their closeness, pushing himself away - sliding away against the wall inch by inch, looking about to pull into his shell. Raph surged forward as though he couldn't help it, catching Mikey when it looked as though he was about to fall.

April was standing by the front door, wary for all the heartache in her eyes. A footfall on the stairs drew Leo's eyes to Casey, crouching there watchfully, and then he glanced down the hall where their father was positioned by the back door.

If this had to fall apart, then it would. But they'd be damned if they were going to just let him leave again.

"Please - " Mikey cringed away from Raph's hands, but the attempt was kitten-like and feeble, as though he was afraid to move even just to move away now that Raph was touching him. "Please, don't - please get away from me - please, Raphie, please, please, please get away, please - "

"Mikey, listen to me," Raph said, wrapping solid hands around Mikey's arms. "You're safe here, remember? You're safe with us. Whatever you see - whatever you _remember -_ it's okay, you're _safe._ "

It wasn't okay, and Leo thought it might never be okay again unless they somehow _made this right,_ made everything _better,_ banished this awful misery the way they used to banish Mikey's bad dreams and bedtime monsters. They were practiced at that, at taking care of him and making the ugly world a bright place for him, and for all their recent failure, they _had_ to be able to do this, to fix this, to _help_.

But Mikey was doing his best to tug out of Raph's hands without touching him, glassy eyes wide and unseeing. He sounded close to hyperventilating, and Donnie visibly steeled himself to stay a painful handful of steps away.

"Mikey, you're _safe,_ " Raph tried again, desperately, and Mikey shoved him.

"But you're _not!"_ The world screeched to a halt as Mikey all but screamed, "You're not safe! I was - I - _hurt_ you, I hurt all of you - I almost k- " His voice broke, and the fight all but went out of him. "I almost killed father. I hated him. I _hated_ him! What's wrong with me? How could I have - how could I have d- done that?"

Leo didn't know when he started moving, only realized he was in front of Mikey when Raph was stepping reluctantly away and Leo's hands were framing Mikey's face. He tilted their foreheads together, wishing there was a way to take all of this misery and pain and absorb it like a sponge, take all of the suffering into his own self and leave Mikey with nothing but his smiles and his easy cheer and his undulating aura that always looked like autumn leaves caught in a happy wind.

Mikey was gasping in earnest now, hands twisted together and pressed against his plastron again, as though he was trying to contain an internal ugliness that simply didn't exist.

"And you were - the Sh- Shredder, he - I saw you all d- die, Leo, I _saw -_ "

Leo held him tighter, pressed just a bit closer, and said, "First, I need you to breathe. Can you do that?"

At first it seemed as though the answer is a solid no. But Leo was patient, so calm his spirit might have detached from its home in his body. His world was ending all around him, but there was the barest chance he might salvage something from the wreckage - and that was a chance he would risk his life on, and so he was patient.

After what could have been moments or hours, Mikey's breath began to slow into something less hysteric. Leo smiled, but the smile was the only move he dared make. He didn't shift, didn't let his grip on Mikey tighten or loosen by even the barest amount, as much a statue as anything living could be. The storm in his heart was a secret now, one he thought even Splinter wouldn't be able to find if he searched.

"I know you hate it," Leo said mildly, "but we're going to do mindful breathing now. Follow me."

It was the first meditation practice Splinter taught them, and Leo remembered being very young and counting his breaths as he mimicked their father. It came naturally to him at this point and he enjoyed it just as much as his brothers would rather do almost anything else. Now it was a chore, because to be aware of his body was to be aware of the lie he was telling with it, but he _needed_ Mikey to calm down.

Mikey's breath hitched now and then with a quiet sob, but he'd been taught for years to follow that particular tone without question, had acted against instinct and better judgement on nothing more than Leo's firm word more than a dozen times in his life, and Leo was betting everything on that learned loyalty, that conditioned physical response that was less trust and more reflex.

Mikey's breathing finally evened. They stood together instead of apart, now, but Leo didn't let him go.

Donnie and Raph were each a familiar presence on Leo's either side. Their spirits burned like candle flame in his mind's eye, warm but not burning, and he knew that Mikey - always the most perceptive when it came to his family and auras and the things you had to believe in _before_ you could see them - was aware of them, too.

He hoped it was proof enough. He hoped Mikey could trust in _that,_ even if he couldn't trust anything else.

There was no way Shredder could have faked this. There was no way he or anyone outside the four of them could even _know_ it. Let Mikey sink roots in this connection and center himself, let him feel it and _believe._

"I know you're confused," Leo said with a composure he didn't feel. "I know you're not sure what's real. And it's not fair of me to ask this of you, but - please have faith in me. Have faith in us, just one more time."

He closed his eyes, hoping and praying and so desperate for his words to be enough that he was almost too afraid to speak them, afraid he might get it all wrong.

"I should never have left you alone for so long," Leo whispered. "When you left that night, I should have gone right after you. I should have been able to help you sooner. There's so much I should have done that I didn't do - I failed you over and over, and I'm so sorry. But I never died."

Mikey was trembling, and Fearless or not, Leo wasn't brave enough to open his eyes.

"I'm alive, Mikey. We all are. This isn't a trick or a trap. I'll do whatever you need me to do to prove it. We never, ever left you. We did everything we could to get you back. We would never have stopped until you were home, even if it took years."

"I hurt Raph," Mikey replied, so faint it was hard to hear him. "I hurt everyone. I'm not - I'm no _good_ anymore, I'm - "

"You _spared_ Raph," Leo said fiercely, tightening his grip to impart how _serious_ the distinction was. "It should have been impossible, but you _spared_ him. He's only alive because some tiny sliver of you was stronger than all of Shredder's forces combined. That's amazing, little brother. _You're_ amazing."

With that, Mikey was crying. Tears spilled down his cheeks in a steady stream, and his sobs were every bit as childish and uncontrived as the rest of him - guileless, unassuming Mikey, pushing forward to bury his face in Leo's shoulder and cling to him for all he's worth, as if he was seven years old again and the scariest thing in his life so far was only the fading footprint of a bad dream.

Leo felt himself start crying, too, as he held onto Mikey with plans of never, ever letting go. This wasn't the end, he knew. This wasn't such an easy fix. As far as getting to the bottom of this mess they were in, they hadn't even scratched the surface. Mikey may have been more their Mikey again - more himself now that the missing time and the missing memories were filling the gaping holes in his mind - but months of torture and the effects of mental scars weren't going to just float away on a kind breeze.

 _Still,_ Leo thought, _it's a start._

Raph and Donnie crowded them from both sides, wrapping strong, hardened arms around the both of them, and Mikey didn't flinch away.

"Of course you're good, Mikey," Donnie said, voice soft and thick the way it only sounded through tears. Raph nodded as much as he was able with his head buried in their huddle.

"If _anyone's_ good," he said plainly, "it's you."

Mikey pressed closer, and held onto them with all the might his trembling body could afford - and with that, his brothers had precious more than they had had in a long, long time.


	11. epilogue

**epilogue.**

His 'chucks feel too heavy in his hands anymore. They don't fit like they used to.

"Sorry," he says every time he falters, every time Splinter draws him to one side of the dojo, always staring at the worn mats beneath their feet than daring to meet his father's worried eyes. "I can't."

He used to be able to do this without thinking, it came to him so naturally. He could goof off and play while his siblings worked and trained, and still keep up with them at the end of the day. But now, his muscles go taut and his vision tunnels when one of his brother picks up a sai or a sword or a staff. Now, he freezes when they face him across the mat, and he tries to make himself move, tries to lift his hands, to give what they expect from him -

but he _can't_.

Once it was for _real_. Once he tried to _kill_ them. With blades and blunt force trauma, unfeeling and unforgiving, like an attack dog let off the chain. Raph will always have a scar, no matter it how it may fade with time and stretch with his skin as he grows.

Mikey feels sick every time he sees that scar. What if he - _again_? What if a friendly spar devolves into an ugly struggle? What if he _hurts_ someone, what if -

His father's hand finds a home on the crown of his head, smoothing over the puckered scars there. "You have been at this long enough," he says, with something in his tone riding the line between sympathy and bone-deep sorrow. "As Donatello has said, countless times - you must _rest_ , Michelangelo. Be still for a change."

He feels distinctly like a failure as he's ushered out of the dojo. His brothers don't keep up the pretense of training without him. They don't let him out of their sight very much anymore, and for all that they'd probably be better off without him around, Mikey doesn't like to be left alone.

Leo makes the executive decision to take the team out on patrol for the first time in a handful of days, watching his youngest brother with cool blue eyes, and all of the protests that bubbled up to Mikey's lips slip out of reach.

"It'll be okay," Donnie offers gently, with a friendly shoulder bump that shouldn't have made him want to cry.

So he slides the nunchaku into his belt. The familiar weight of them is uncomfortable against his hips, and he does his best to act like his skin's not crawling as he pulls his mask up from where it usually hangs limp around his neck. The companionable silence weighs on his shoulders like weighted armor. Is there something he should be doing? Saying? Does he even fit here, between them, anymore?

"Leo," Raph says suddenly, eyes sharp and gemstone green in the nighttime gloom. They flock to him and follow his pointed stare down to a busy street corner, where more than a few Dragons are making trouble for what looks like the drivers of an armored car with a bank logo stamped on its side.

Mikey's stomach is in knots. He can feel Donnie watching him, knows the seconds Leo takes to think it over aren't seconds he would have taken to think it over _before_ , but in the end he comes to a decision no one else is privy to and says, "Let's go."

He doesn't want this. Pressed shell to shell to shell with his brothers, nunchaku raised in hands that don't shake, he _doesn't want this_. He's too close, much too close - if something happened - if he lost it, went off the deep end, gave himself over too much to the sinister shadow of the Shredder's teachings that sometimes eclipse the lessons he learned from his own father - he has nightmares about that, he'll always have nightmares about that -

His hands don't shake but his heart is quaking as he faces a stranger with a dragon tattoo. It's too easy to fall back into this rhythm, too easy, he's afraid he'll be able to start but he won't be able to _stop_. But there's no way to explain to the man bearing down on him with a crowbar, no time to do anything but let himself react.

The man goes down with a heady thud seconds later, and another takes his place. Mikey fights with his heart in his throat, conscious of every move he makes, and then - as the arc of a tornado kick is curving towards a Dragon's head - someone else is shoved into his path, the Dragon knocked out of the way and Raphael staggering into his place, and -

Mikey moves. As easy as breathing, as automatic as any blink, reflex takes over and he _moves_ , turning the kick into a neat flip over Raph's head that does nothing more than ruffle the long tattered tails of his red mask, the most effortless move he's made in months. Lands on the shoulders of Raph's assailant and bears him to the ground, before the man can so much as take another step in his brother's direction.

And Raph only shoots him a quick, flashbang grin, there and gone in an instant before he's whirling back into the battle. Like it wasn't anything remarkable, like he believes with all his heart in the brother that so thoroughly betrayed them all, like of _course_ Mikey was there to have his back.

And when they win - because of course they win - the small-time victory is something elated and ridiculous. They whoop and cheer like it was a _big deal_ and not some back alley brawl, and they're all looking at Mikey with bright, vicious pride in their jewel-colored eyes. Mikey is strung along by the swell of their joy and can't help thinking,

 _Okay. Maybe it's okay._

Because his brothers are all right next to him, whole and unburdened by him and laughing, Mikey laughs, too, for the first time in what feels like _years_ \- even though his crooked mask feels too tight and his nunchucks still feel too heavy in his hands and the sound comes out of him like someone reached past his ribs and _wrenched_ it out.

He laughs and laughs, and doesn't realize there are tears on his face until Don reaches over to rub them away, but it's okay.

He's okay.


End file.
